#very little horse when you think about it

[suashii]

— 𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝓀 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 ౨ৎ

boothill x f!reader. 2k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ non-canon compliant ﾉ farmhand!boothill ﾉ injuries ﾉ pet names ( darlin', sweetheart, doll :3 ) ﾉ mentions of food

so i wrote about horse riding but. . . know very little about horse riding! i did my best to research but there may be some details i got wrong so apologies in advance!

previous part ౨ৎ masterlist ౨ৎ next part

“that’s it, pretty girl, nice and easy.”

the horse beneath you sighs and you do the same, relaxation and contentment in the breath you let go of. it’s been a while since you’ve gone riding, a few years at least, but being sat on a saddle with reins in your hands feels as natural as it used to when you’d ride nearly every day of the summer. you’re lucky that your favorite mare—clover—is still healthy enough to take out.

you gently squeeze your legs into clover’s sides in a silent signal for her to move from a trot to a canter. the sequence of her hoof beats effortlessly switches from the two-beat gait to one of three beats and her pace quickens. the wind against your face is stronger now but you welcome the sensation, a small smile making its way to your face.

as a kid, riding was fun and exciting more than anything else but as you’ve grown into an adult, the activity has become something more cathartic—a release of sorts. your stress slips away when you’re on the saddle, lost in the summery breeze. you don’t allow a second for the thoughts that constantly nag at you to linger. all of your focus is granted to clover and the field ahead, to how you feel here and now and how you wish you could feel like this all the time.

unfortunately for you, nothing lasts forever.

you hear the dog before you see her, barking discernible in the distance. clover must, too, her ears pointing back to listen more closely to the sound approaching from behind. as the barking grows louder, the horse’s neck tenses, and it only takes a second more for her to decide that the noise is worth investigating. you’re in alert mode now, too—no, it’s probably closer to panic mode. it’s been a while since you’ve had to worry about the horse getting spooked and even then you had your grandpa or parents to rely on to make sure nothing got out of hand.

you don’t have time to even think about what the right thing to do in this situation is before clover spots the dog bounding towards the both of you.

“clove—!” you try to calm her down, to let her know that the dog isn’t a threat that she should be scared of, but it’s far too late. before you can comprehend what’s happening, clover is rearing. the motion combined with your loose hold on the reins is enough to send you flying off the horse’s saddle. a scream is ripped from your throat and you squeeze your eyes shut at being in the air, destined to fall.

you hit the ground with an audible thud.

pain courses through your body—your back, your shoulders, your head. everything hurts and hot tears spring to the corners of your eyes but they pool there, refusing to stream down your cheeks. despite all the pain, the growing soreness, you find your mind wandering. where did clover run off to? what was the dog doing out here alone? she rarely leaves the house by herself. someone is yelling, they’re calling your name. is it boothill?

“shit, little lady,” he shakily breathes, “you okay?”

relief washes over you and for a short second, you think that you’ve never been happier to hear the farmhand’s voice. it’s tinged with concern, a characteristic you have yet to see him display—especially for you. it doesn’t stop in his voice either, you can feel it in how he takes a hold of your shoulders, his grip firm but not tight enough to cause you any unnecessary pain.

you take the risk of finally opening your eyes and instead of being met with the sun’s blinding rays, boothill’s face crowds your vision. his eyebrows are pulled together and for once, there’s no smirk or grin playing at his lips. upon seeing that you’re conscious, the tension in boothill’s forehead lessens. “there she is.”

his voice is soft, like if he speaks too loud he’ll break you. though it’s unlike him to be so mindful, you appreciate what you imagine is the temporary change. he opens his mouth to continue but before he can get another word out, the border collie, missy, nudges between the two of you as if she senses something is wrong. boothill shoos her away before turning his attention back to you. “you okay? what happened?”

you think back on the moments that led to this—you laid out on your back in the grass. “missy… i think she scared clover. she threw me off.”

that’s right, you have no idea where she went after being so startled or if she’s okay, at that.

“where is clover?” you dart up into a sitting position, palms against the grass. it’s a bad idea and you face the consequences of it immediately, head throbbing and the dull pain throughout your limbs becoming all the more noticeable. you suck in a sharp breath in response to the discomfort but realize that the pain you’re in doesn’t top your concern for the horse. “is she still around here? i need to go find her.”

“woah, woah, woah, hold your horses.” boothill frowns. he stands up and holds both of his hands out to help you do the same. for once, you don’t think about the underlying meaning of having your hands touch his, you just grab a hold and let him pull you up. you turn your head in every direction you can in search of clover, readying to pick any of them to start walking in. though, you can’t, not with the way boothill is holding your hands hostage. his gray eyes bore into yours. “you aren’t going anywhere but to the hospital.”

“what? no.” you shake your head and try to pull away but boothill doesn’t budge. the longer he holds onto you, the more aware you become of his touch—how warm his hands are and how, even though they’re rough and calloused, his palms are more comforting than you care to admit. “i don’t need a hospital. i’m fine.”

“listen darlin’, people who have just been thrown off horses ain’t known for their good judgment.” he squeezes your hands but then seems to think better of it, loosening his grip but continuing to hold them. he gets his message across though, with the hand squeeze and the almost desperate look in his eyes. you’ve never seen him so uneasy, heard him speak so seriously. his new demeanor has your feet glued to their spot on the ground and your gaze glued to his. “you’re going to the hospital.”

you’re rarely one to jump at the opportunity to agree with boothill but maybe he’s right. you’re running on adrenaline right now and your mind isn’t in the best place—you’re worried about the wrong things. and if the topic is important enough to have boothill practically pleading with you, you should take it just as seriously as he is.

“fine, i’ll go, but you need to find clover before we do.” that came off a little more demanding than you meant it to. you add, “please.”

he clicks his tongue and groans before telling you, “alright, i’ll find your damn horse.”

● ● ●

boothill is a man of his word and tracks down clover, putting her back in the stable before whisking you away to the hospital. the ride there feels like a visit to the doctor itself with the way the farmhand practically interrogates you about your symptoms. he’s concerned but can’t help but laugh when you tell him that he’s exacerbating any head trauma you may have sustained by making you think so hard.

despite your initial resistance to boothill’s insistence on going to the hospital, you’re thankful for his urging. turns out he was right to be worried—you got a concussion.

your helmet helped soften the blow but the physician who explained your diagnosis still recommended a few days off work to rest and recover. it’s not the best news to receive but considering things could have been much worse, you’re grateful to walk away with a relatively minor injury.

and if your doctor had any anxiety about you ignoring his advice, it was misplaced. because boothill has personally made it his responsibility to be sure you get better.

as soon as the two of you arrived back at the house, he steered you into the living room, sat you on the couch, and disappeared into the kitchen with a demand for you to stay put. you’re tempted to argue but your head hurts too much so you cross your arms instead, closing your eyes and resting your head on the couch cushion.

it doesn’t take long for him to return and his hands are full when he does—a glass of water in one, an orange precariously rolling on a plate in the other, and a bottle of pain medication tucked under one of his arms. he sets the drink and pills on the coffee table before plopping down on the couch beside you, the dip in the cushion enough to make you open your eyes.

upon grabbing your attention, boothill jerks his head in that direction. “take a couple of those.”

you sit up and unscrew the bottle, shaking out two of the pills and popping them in your mouth before taking a few sips of the water he grabbed for you. a beat of silence passes before you speak up. “you know, i could have done all this myself.”

“i’m sure you could have,” he tells you with a grin, hands busy peeling the skin from the orange. it’s still all in one piece. impressive, you think, but you aren’t surprised. it seems like boothill is good at everything he does. “just thought you might enjoy having me at your beck and call.”

you frown. what does he think you are? some princess who needs a servant? “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothin’, darlin’.” he slides the plate of peeled orange slices across the coffee table so you can eat them when you’re ready. he wipes his hands on his jeans before standing up and stuffing them in his pockets.

the farmhand is on his way to the door when he says, “i’m off, but holler for me if you need anything, sweetheart.” 

you never thought you’d see the day you would stop boothill from leaving.

“wait, before you go…” he stops and turns around, eyebrows slightly raised in silent question, urging you to go on. you had more courage to say what was on your mind when he wasn’t looking at you. though, you know it’s only right to let him know that you appreciate all he’s done for you today. so, you turn your gaze to the floor and let it spill out. “thank you for finding clover. and for taking me to the hospital. and for this.” you gesture to the fruit.

there’s a flash of sincerity that passes over his features before that annoying smile makes its way back to his lips. “so you can say thank you.”

you don’t know what kind of response you were expecting, but you should have seen this coming. it’s like he’s hardwired to tease you, even when you’re being genuine. “you can leave now, boothill.”

“yeah, yeah, i’ll get out of your hair.” in contradiction to his words, he stays put. and you can’t find it in you to be upset that he does because the humor has left his face, replaced by earnestness. “but you’re welcome, doll. it was really no trouble.”

he finally takes his leave and when you hear the door close, you let out a frustrated groan and lay your head back on the cushion. that nasty fall must have done more damage than you thought. why else would your heart be working overtime over a simple change of expression?

you shake your head to get rid of the unwelcome thoughts—thoughts of how generous and caring he actually might be—before you think better of the motion. it hurts your head and makes you wonder how long it’ll take before the pain pills kick in. they’ll probably work better if you have something on your stomach.

your eyes fall to the plate boothill left for you.

orange slices should do.

thank u for giving this a read! reblogs and comments are appreciated -`♡´-

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: honkai star rail #boothill x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #boothill drabble #hsr drabbles #boothill fluff #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff

[shitouttabuck]

the same damn thing that made my heart surrender

buck/eddie | 1.4k | t

It’s quiet and late at the station, so Eddie can very clearly hear Buck dragging his feet across the loft from the kitchen to the couch, the sound such a specific combination of distracted and perturbed he already knows to expect the little crease between his eyebrows when he finally flings himself down beside Eddie.

“Ugh,” he says, frowning at his phone as he scrolls what seems to be Instagram.

Eddie hums indulgently, not taking his eyes off the newspaper crossword he pilfered from Hen earlier.

“Ugh,” Buck says again, much more pointed and with an additional nudge to Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’m listening. What, Buck.”

“Ever since that barbecue at Bobby and Athena’s last weekend I’ve been getting the weirdest targeted ads on my Insta,” he pouts, scrolling some more.

“Weird how?” Five letter word for estrangement, ending with T.

Buck huffs and turns on the couch to face Eddie, lifting one leg up onto the cushion and folding it under himself.

“Well, May was introducing me to her college roommate—who, by the way, was giving off way more than just roommate vibes, did you notice? Like, they were acting real cozy and she kept—never mind, sorry, not the point, what I was saying was she borrowed my phone to look up something in one of those online stores, I don’t know, I guess they’re trying to decorate their apartment with a specific aesthetic? Either way, ever since then the Instagram algorithm seems to think that I want to see—” He stops scrolling, lifting his phone and thrusting it emphatically in Eddie’s face, “—shit like this.”

Eddie blinks at the proximity of the bright screen to his face, putting down his pencil to gently move Buck’s hand back a bit so he can see properly.

On the screen is an ad for… a pale blue babydoll tee with the word BRAT screenprinted across the chest in curly pink letters.

Eddie blinks again, mind blissfully empty of synapses firing until Buck says, “See? Why does my phone think this is something I would be interested in purchasing. I mean, can you imagine?”

Eddie can. Eddie can imagine. But dear God, Eddie does not want to imagine. Because now the synapses are firing like some kind of mental train derailment of catastrophic proportions, and Eddie’s mind is conjuring images of Buck, his best friend Buck, squeezed into this skin-tight cotton tee, already tailored to be snug-fitted on much smaller bodies and so nothing short of straining at every seam when met with the bulge of Buck’s biceps, the graphic logo proclaiming BRAT probably distorted across his broad, meaty chest.

“There’s more,” Buck’s telling him, scrolling again. “Like, look at this.”

He stops on a post that seems to be selling tiny red booty shorts, the words SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWBOY emblazoned on the ass.

“I can’t wear shorts this short, my junk would fall out,” Buck grumbles to himself, scrolling once more for probably yet another advertisement whose only targeted goal is to ruin Eddie’s life, selling of wares be damned.

“I’m pretty sure those are women’s shorts,” Eddie says weakly, not thinking about Buck’s perky bubble butt clad in two-inch inseam booty shorts. Definitely not thinking about Buck disgruntledly tucking his dick so not to commit an act of public indecency—more so than the very donning of the shorts would count.

“Well, why doesn’t my algorithm know I’m a dude yet? If I’m being advertised this shit, at least let it be stuff I could plausibly buy for myself, you know?”

Eddie hums, only a little strangled. “So, you’d, uh, buy those shorts if they sold them in men’s sizes?”

Buck ignores him in favour of thrusting his phone at him again. “Look! This one and the next, keep scrolling.”

Eddie takes the phone from him, squinting at it. The first is another skin-tight babydoll tee, with the words GOOD GIRLS printed across the tits and the image of a swooping bird below.

“I don’t get it,” Eddie says, pausing over the post. “Good girls like birdwatching?”

Buck snorts, tips of his ears turning a little pink. “It’s a swallow.”

“Oh,” Eddie says. Then, “Oh.”

He scrolls to the next post as instructed. This one is a white t-shirt that says DON’T BULLY ME, I’LL CUM in red lettering, which—

“I’m either learning some—unforgettable things about you or about May, and honest to God, gun to my head, I don’t know which is worse,” he says faintly, tapping to the next post.

“Shut up, it’s not that fucking literal,” Buck grumbles, settling against the couch cushion more comfortably and watching Eddie scroll. “She was probably looking at some trendy Gen Z homeware or whatever and the algorithm saw the website and ran with it.”

“Mm, and you only started getting these ads after the barbecue? None of this is—your own digital footprint coming back to bite you in the ass?” Eddie grins as he passes a sponsored post for a vibrator brand.

“My digital footprint is not reflective of my sex life,” Buck huffs. “It’s not wrong, but it’s not—why the hell would I buy a tiny woman’s shirt that says BRAT across the chest?”

“Maybe because you—wait, it’s not wrong?” Once again, Eddie’s neurons stutter to an unexpected and horny stop. On the screen of Buck’s phone, his finger has halted over an ad for… jumbo-packs of lube, of all things. Eddie clears his throat. “Ooh, scandalous.”

“What?” Buck makes grabby hands for his phone.

Eddie passes it to him. “May really did mess up your algorithm. Also, I don’t know how I’m gonna look her in the eye at the next party.”

“Oh, uh,” Buck says, looking at the screen before turning off his phone. “No, that’s just. That’s just me, I think.”

Eddie wonders if his brain starting and stopping so frequently can result in permanent brain damage. He’s not sure he cares, because the resulting mental pictures—okay, some of that’s off-limits, always has been. Loving your best friend and respecting your best friend are not mutually exclusive, except, as it turns out, when you’re faced with the reminder that your best friend is having marathon anal sex with his—boyfriend, partner, whatever it is that Tommy is to him. Enough athletic and enthusiastic fucking to be getting ads for bulk-order lube on motherfucking Instagram.

He wonders if Tommy calls him that, calls him a brat and tells him he’s a good girl when he—

Wonders if Buck does like being bullied a little in bed—just teasing, Eddie would never—except it’s not Eddie, Eddie’s not involved in Buck’s love life, and what Eddie does need to do is shut down this line of thought before his strategically placed newspaper fails to hide that he’s half-hard at the thought of Buck in these ridiculously sexual innuendo themed women’s clothes.

“You’re not gonna finish that?” Buck nods to the folded crossword in his lap.

Eddie sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Uh. Sure.” He tilts the paper toward Buck, unwilling to hand it over completely. “Five letter for estrangement, ending in—”

“Split,” Buck says, nodding at the paper. “It’d fit with the P from apprise in ten down.”

“Oh,” Eddie peers at the crossword. “Yeah, it does. Thanks.”

“No problem. I’ve, uh. I’ve been thinking about it.”

“About estrangement?” Eddie asks distractedly, filling in the letters. “Four letter word for just around the corner?”

Buck fidgets beside him. “About—splitting. Specifically—me and Tommy?”

Eddie looks up at him so fast he nearly gets whiplash. His grip on the pencil falters, and it skitters across the loft floor.

“That’s—not true. We’ve already—a week or so ago. We’re still friends, don’t worry,” Buck rushes to tell him. “He just realised, like, with you and me—well, I guess he knew the whole time, but I just realised—the way that you and I—the way that it’s us—c’mon, Eddie.”

“What?” Eddie manages, hoarser than he’s heard himself before.

“Eddie.”

“What’re you saying, Buck?”

“Are you gonna make me spell it out?” Buck sighs. “If I got a pair of red booty shorts that spelled SAVE A FIRE ENGINE, RIDE A FIREFIGHTER across the ass, would that work?”

“Tommy’s a firefighter,” Eddie says weakly.

“Oh, fucking hell,” Buck mutters under his breath. “Fine, if they said SAVE A FIRE ENGINE, RIDE A FIREFIGHTER WHO ALSO HAPPENS TO BE YOUR BEST FRIEND AND PARTNER, would it work then?”

“That’s a lot of writing,” Eddie says, voice still faint. “You don’t have the real estate in the rear for all that.”

When Buck kisses him, exasperated groan crushed into Eddie’s mouth, Eddie knows this is the rest of it—the rest of knowing him entirely: real, endless, and with a convenient standing order for bulk-packaged lube without involving any nosy algorithms.

“Four letter word for just around the corner. Near. Soon. This.”

#sorry this is nonsense. properly Nonsense #911 fic #buddie fic #911 #buddie #writing tag

[training4theapocalypse]

A Royal Misunderstanding (Prince Friedrich x Reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 7k

Warnings / Tags: SMUT, virgin Prince Friedrich and experienced(ish) reader, kinda switchy Prince F.

Summary: He's looking for the future Princess Consort. You're looking for a life out of the spotlight. It'd never work.

A/N: K and an E and a T and a T, E and an R and an ING. T and an O and a W, N. Kettering Town. F.C. Also thank you to my regency queens @stealsteels and @shinytalent for reading this 👑

Masterlist

There’s an unnecessary knock on the open stable door as you move to untack your mare. She needs a thorough brush after the ride you had today.

“You are the stable hand?” inquires a young man’s voice.

You whirl around, ready to deliver a sharp retort, but hesitate when you see his earnest, slightly incredulous expression. You’ve never encountered him before, you’re sure of it. His handsome face, tuft of blonde hair and wide-eyed demeanour would certainly have been memorable.

“I was told I would be meeting the stable hand here,” he continues, still uncertain. “To collect a horse.”

An accent. Foreign. He must be part of Prince Friedrich’s contingent, newly arrived from the Kingdom of Prussia this morning. And he must be exceedingly green to mistake you for a stable hand. Despite your riding breeches being muddied from your ride, any discerning footman would recognise that the fine tailoring is not typical of a servant's attire. Even one in the employ of the Crown. His own attire, however, is old-fashioned and ill-fitting - it bears all the marks of a hand-me-down from another household servant or perhaps an older family member.

You purse your lips to stifle a smile. The opportunity to toy with one of the charmingly naive lackeys from the Prussian delegation sparks your mischievous side. Besides, he’ll need to toughen up if he’s to survive in London. “Don’t they permit women to become stable hands in Prussia?”

He blinks. “No.”

“And this horse is for Prince Friedrich?”

“Yes.” He raises his eyebrows, as though it should be self-evident why he’s here. As if everyone should recognise Prince Friedrich’s footman. The man pulls his shoulder back and there’s a subtle hint of authority in his stance. You’re unsure if it’s the language barrier or his presumption, but his curt answers irk you.

“Very well, then,” you say, gently guiding your horse towards him. “This is Artemis. She’s the finest in the stable.”

“This is your finest horse?” He chuckles heartily and your mouth becomes a thin line and your nostrils flare. 

“Perhaps His Royal Highness would prefer a pony?”

He straightens, a haughty glint in his eye. “It’s covered in filth.”

“My lady is a keen rider and has already been out this morning. But if Prince Freidrich can’t handle a little dirt -”

“Of course, I can manage.”

You arch an eyebrow, his tone further irritating you. “If you say so,” you reply, handing him the reins.

As he mounts Artemis, you can’t help but decide to give him a parting gift. You give her a firm slap on her hindquarters. Artemis bolts forward, sending the young man bouncing precariously in the saddle. You watch with satisfaction as he disappears down the path, his shouts of alarm fading into the distance. 

Perhaps now he’ll think twice before assuming someone is a servant.

With a contented smile, you leave the stables, already brimming with excitement at the thought of telling your ladies-in-waiting about your encounter. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As far as you’re concerned, there isn’t enough wide open space in London. Far too many locked doors and whispered secrets. Or worse. Written down secrets. Specifically, the sort published by Lady Whistledown. You’d much rather be at home than endure another visit to the capital but when Queen Charlotte invited you to stay at her residence for the duration of the social season, you could hardly refuse. Not when Her Majesty and your late father, the Duke of Kettering, were such dear friends.

You suspect this invitation to spend the season at the palace might be the Queen’s ultimate attempt to honour your father’s memory. It was expected that you’d be desperate to find a husband after he passed. On paper, it should have been simple enough - your inheritance is decent enough to tempt a husband.

But finding a suitor hasn’t been easy. You’re not asking for much. You don’t want titles or wealth. Just a husband who’d be content to let you spend the day out riding rather than attending social engagements. Events like this one are your idea of hell on earth. Although it wasn’t as bad as yesterday when you had to present yourself to the Queen as one of the eligible misses of the season. 

As you stepped into the centre of the room, your palms turned cold and you could feel your stomach turning inside out as you waited for the Queen to give her verdict. There’s an old saying: the brighter a lady shines, the faster she may burn. And you’d rather not find yourself turned to ash at the hands of the ton. 

You exhaled an audible sigh of relief when Her Majesty remained seated and deigned to give you a small nod of approval. Neither the diamond nor the disgrace of the season and you’re glad of it - it means fewer eyes on you. But even that short burst in the relatively dim limelight made you want to flee from the room and vomit. You put yourself through your paces in the saddle this morning just to shake off the lingering feeling of dread.

You should be grateful that the Queen did not wave you away dismissively. This is your second social season after all and your value is quickly plummeting. You just need a husband who is content to stay out of the spotlight. And is resigned to the fact that you’ll probably prefer your horse’s company to theirs. 

If only you really were a stable hand instead of the late Duke of Kettering’s daughter.

As you mingle in Queen Charlotte’s banquet hall amongst other guests, waiting upon the arrival of Prince Freidrich, you feel a twinge of guilt about your encounter with his footman this morning. Perhaps after this welcome dinner, you’ll discreetly invite him to meet you in the stables as a gesture of apology.

The footman was handsome, after all, despite the blonde whiskers he must have grown in an attempt to appear more mature. You wouldn’t mind ruffling his perfectly coiffed hair before letting him bend you over the stable door.

Your companion jolts you from your daydream by squeezing your arm with her silk glove excitedly. You turn and smooth the front of your gown as Queen Charlotte and her nephew Prince Friedrich’s arrival is announced. 

The doors open and it takes every ounce of your self-control to maintain a dignified composure as Queen Charlotte walks in, arm-in-arm with Prince Friedrich’s footman.

Or the man who you thought was Prince Friedrich’s footman.

Damn.

Of course, you sent Prince Friedrich himself chasing across the palace grounds on the back of your startled mare.

While your face retains a dignified composure, you can’t do anything about the prickle of embarrassment flushing your chest. It’s only a matter of time before the Queen introduces Prince Freidrich to you and you will need to eat copious amounts of humble pie, slathered with grovelling apologies and dusted off with begging for forgiveness.

There’s no avoiding it. Even though tonight’s dinner isn’t an official event of the season - just a small dinner for the fifty or so palace guests and members of the Royal Family, Prince Friedrich is still introduced to every eligible woman in the room. Including you. 

Queen Charlotte, eventually steers him towards you. “Allow me to present my nephew, Prince Friedrich of Prussia.”

You curtsy and allow him to greet your gloved hand with a kiss but your stomach twists in anticipation, waiting for him to admonish you in front of the Queen.

“Lady Kettering, your gown - it is exquisite,” he says, in the usual formality. “And I hope your ride this morning was more pleasant than mine.”

You take a breath to compose your apology but you’re saved from the necessity.

“Yes, the Prince had a simply awful time this morning. First, his footman forgets to pack his riding wear so he has to borrow some from the Viscount of Paisley. And then a common girl posing as a stable hand gave Prince Friedrich your horse and sent him galloping across the plain.”

“I see,” you say cautiously but the corners of Prince Freidrich’s mouth twitch like he’s trying not to laugh. You ask, “And is my horse alright?”

Queen Charlotte laughs at this. “I should have known that you would be more concerned about your mount than the Prince of Prussia.”

You smile. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. It’s only that I’m confident a duplicitous stable girl was no match for His Royal Highness.”

“Your mare was returned safely,” smiles Prince Friedrich, a roguish glint in his eye.

Prince Friedrich bows and Queen Charlotte bustles him away onto the next group of eager girls. 

As you watch him greet the next group you wonder: why is the Prince of Prussia making excuses for you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the grand dining room, you search for your place setting at the far end of the table beside the other noble families from minor houses to no avail. They’ve missed me, you think in horror as you look around at the filled seats but one of your friends nudges you and nods at the empty seat next to Prince Friedrich. 

There must be some mistake. 

But when you glance at the Prince, still standing behind his chair expectantly at the middle of the table, he catches your eye and places a hand on the empty seat. 

Barely daring to breathe, you wonder if this is his way of getting back at you for the events of this morning. Perhaps he arranged for your table setting to go missing and you’ll be publicly humiliated when you dare to assume the seat next to him would be for you. 

You walk for what feels like a very long time to the other side of the table, feeling eyes on you as every step is like your shoes are made of lead. You do your best not to clench your fists as your face grows hot in anticipation of being embarrassed in front of everyone. 

Dipping your head, you refuse to look at Prince Friedrich and instead discreetly look at the place cards as you pass. The titles become increasingly grand as you approach the centre of the table until you reach the grandest of them all.

Her Majesty, Queen Charlotte.

His Royal Highness, Prince Friedrich.

Then you see your name. Etched in gold on eggshell paper. At the place setting beside Prince Friedrich’s.

You blink, feeling relief course through you. You’ve never sat this close to the Queen before. The centre of the table was reserved for distinguished guests like, well, Prince Friedrich.

“Lady Kettering, I hope you don’t mind me stealing you away from your usual dinner companions,” says Prince Friedrich, looking at your friends staring wide-eyed at you from the other end of the table.

“It’s my pleasure, Your Highness,” you say, giving them a sharp look. As the servers remove the cloches from the banquet before you, conversation erupts around the table, giving you the chance to swallow your pride. “And I do apologise for this morning,” you add quietly. “I had mistakenly assumed you were Prince Friedrich’s footman.”

“A footman?” He grins, and tilts his head, picturing himself as a footman before adding. “I too would like to apologise. I should never have assumed a beautiful woman such as yourself was a stable hand,” he says. 

“When did you come to the realisation that I wasn’t?”

“I knew your horse’s name. When I asked who owned her, I was told it was a lady who was as wild as the horses she keeps.” Your mouth twists into a reluctant smile. “Is that true?” he asks, his green eyes twinkling with interest.

“Oh no,” you smile, sipping your freshly poured wine, aware of his eyes following your every movement. “My horses are very well-behaved.”

He laughs. It’s a pretty laugh. “Can I assume that means you are looking forward to the season beginning?” He gives you a wry smile. His eyes are alight with enthusiasm as he waits for you to share in his excitement for the beginning of the social season. But there’s something else in his gaze, something more intimate.

You must put an end to this before he gets the wrong idea and you’re made a spectacle of. Prince Friedrich will be the most sought-after man of the season and you don’t want the attention that accompanies competing for his affections - to be thrust into the spotlight and have Lady Whistledown write about you would be more attention than you could bear. 

You glance around to see if anyone is listening before lowering your voice. “Your Highness - may I speak candidly?”

“Nothing would please me more,” he says sincerely, his tone softening.

“Why did you arrange for me to sit here?”

Prince Friedrich looks taken aback. “Well… after this morning, I knew I had to find out more about you.”

You nod sadly. This is what you were afraid of but you had expected it nonetheless.

“This is my second - and hopefully last - season. You see, I’m not used to being in the public eye and I find the social season to be entirely mortifying.”

“I see…” says Prince Friedrich slowly.

“You Highness, please don’t mistake me. I’m honoured to be in your presence but -”

“Lady Kettering -” Prince Friedrich lowers his voice. “You told me you would speak candidly. Please disperse with the airs and graces.”

You push your food around on your plate. It’s risky to speak so plainly to aristocracy. Their fragile egos normally demand a guarded formality. “I am sorry but the idea of competing with other women to become the Princess Consort of Prussia is more publicity than I can handle. I need to find a husband quickly. A marriage of convenience.”

“Convenience…” He nods thoughtfully. “I understand. A marriage to me would certainly draw attention.”

He’s not offended. Thank god. “Exactly, Your Highness. Being in the public eye. The scrutiny. It would be unbearable.”

“It is a pity,” he says quietly. “Because I’m sure a mutually convenient marriage would have its benefits.”

Mutually convenient? Your own inheritance pales in comparison to the riches that Prince Friedrich is heir to. What would he gain from marrying you?

You look up from your plate to see that he’s brazenly smirking at you. 

Oh. 

It’s undeniable this time. He’s flirting with you. You feel heat creeping up your neck and you know you must look feverish when his eyes roam across your corseted chest.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Your Highness,” you say, your whisper barely audible.

“I mean that sharing a marital bed would have its… advantages.” Prince Friedrich takes a sip of his wine, seemingly pleased that he’s made you flustered. Now, you can’t have that.

You glance over his shoulder to make sure Queen Charlotte is occupied. “I don’t need a husband to reap those sorts of advantages.”

When you say that, he slops half of his wine down his front in surprise. “You - you don’t?”

You arch an eyebrow. “You don’t have other companions for that sort of thing?” You pass him your napkin so he can clean himself up, your fingers grazing his knee under the table, making him inhale a sharp intake of breath. “You’re not worried about being unable to please your new wife?”

He stares straight ahead, momentarily stunned. Like he never realised sex was something you could be bad at. After a beat, he shakes his head. “It would not be prudent if people knew I was having - ”

“You mistake me. It is not my intention to get caught.”

Prince Friedrich sighs, a sad smile playing on his lips. “If only it were that simple. I’m surrounded by people. Always.”

The two of you sit quietly, allowing the servants to replace your empty plates with dessert. You can practically hear the cogs in the Prince’s head as his brain works overtime, trying to decide how to respond to this new information. Prince Friedrich takes a polite bite of chocolate cake and sits back.

“Once again, being the Queen’s nephew complicates things,” you say, sitting forward and sliding your fork through a sizable portion. “Don’t you have an appetite after your ride this morning, Your Highness?”

“I think the news that you do not wish me to court you has disappointed me so much that I never want to eat again,” he jokes half-heartedly before returning his focus entirely to you.

“If only we really were a stable hand and a footman - waiting until all the palace guests had gone to bed to meet in the stables after dark,” you say after eating the last bite of cake on your plate. 

Prince Friedrich swallows thickly and your eyes move from his Adam's apple to the almost untouched piece of cake on his plate.

“Are you - are you still hungry, my lady?” he asks.

You lean forward and steal a scoop of whipped cream from his plate with your fork. You eat the whipped cream and he watches with bated breath as you take several seconds longer than necessary to drag the polished silver fork from between your lips.

"I'm insatiable, Your Highness."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You scratch Artemis’s head in the dark stables, wondering if you’ve made a mistake in being here. Mostly you were interested to see if the sweet, naive Prince Friedrich would turn up. But you know how noblemen are. Their egos are so easy to bruise that an adverturess could scare them off simply by existing. 

Which is why you can scarcely believe it when there’s a knock at the closed stable door. You don’t breathe for a second before remembering that only Prince Freidrich would knock before entering a stable of all places.

He opens the door and for a moment is visibly relieved to see you. You stare at each other. The only sound is the soft rustling of the horses, that is until he closes the door behind him and moves to you with an agility that surprises you, considering how unstable he was on your horse earlier.  

If he had no appetite earlier, it has certainly returned now. Prince Friedrich has a hungry look in his eyes as he pulls you close by the waist and kisses you. You squeeze your eyes shut, expecting a clash of teeth but his kiss is passionate, even skilled. Your shoulders untense as you relax into it and slide your arms around his neck, allowing him to pull your body against his. Even through the many skirts under your evening gown, you can feel that he’s hard.

His tongue enters your mouth, licking and swirling it against yours - it’s surprisingly good. And he smells good. A beautiful sandalwood cologne that can only be from the finest perfumery.

You pull back breathlessly before you can allow the inebriating scent and feel of him to rid you of your senses. “Prince Friedrich, I -”

“Please, just Freidrich.”

“Friedrich.” Even with his permission the name feels strange in your mouth. “How much romantic experience do you have?”

“I’ve read books,” he says quickly and you press your lips together to stop laughing.

“You mean romance books? Like Miss Butterworth and the Mad Baron?”

“No, I mean… instructional.”

“Instructions on how to fuck?” He nods and flushes a deep shade of pink at the question and this time you can’t help but laugh. “Remind me to spend time in the palace library in Prussia if I ever visit.” You study him. “I meant more… practical experience. It’s not the type of thing you can learn from a book.”

“I have a little experience.”

“Like what? Just kissing?” He hesitates and you move your hand down between your bodies and brush his hard cock through his trousers. “Or has anyone ever touched you like this before?”

Friedrich swallows. “Before now, you mean?” You nod and he hesitates again, guessing that it’s not the answer you want to hear. “No,” he says, truthfully.

You withdraw your hand. “Maybe this is something you should save for your future wife.”

“Marry me, then,” he blurts out, his voice trembling slightly with urgency.

You groan inwardly, shaking your head. “Friedrich, I wasn’t being coy when I told you I don’t want to be wed to a Prince. Besides, the season is starting tomorrow and you’ll be introduced to a hundred wealthy, beautiful women. Each one of them would be a better match than I.”

“Impossible.”

“You don’t know that -”

“I know that nobody has ever spoken to me the way that you did tonight. Or this morning for that matter.”

You smile despite yourself. You can believe it. If you were trying to secure the Prince’s hand in marriage, you would have carried yourself with much more grace and dignity than you have thus far.

“That’s because I have the manners of a common mule and the propriety of a common whore,” your grin falters and you look at him seriously. “And both of those qualities make me thoroughly incompatible with the Prince of Prussia. Marrying you is out of the question.”

“I understand,” he says, clearly worried that you’re reconsidering lying with him. “Let me be one of your companions. Show me how to do it.”

“Will you promise not to ask for my hand in marriage when this is done?”

Your hands undo the lacing on his trousers as he hitches his breath. “Anything. Sh-show me. Please.”

You remove your gloves and toss them on the stable floor. You slide your bare hand into his underwear and feel him shudder when you grip his cock. Christ almighty. It’s bigger than what you had expected from the innocent Prince.

“Since we’re practising so that you can please your future wife,” you tell him as you jerk your hand along his length. “I’ll tell you what feels good and what doesn’t. And you must do the same.”

He exhales shakily. “This - this feels good.”

“That’s a good start,” you smirk. “And you have a nice cock, Your Highness. The Princess Consort of Prussia will be a very lucky woman indeed once I’ve shown you how to use it.”

“Oha,” he breathes. 

“So eager,” you tut playfully, your face inches from his. 

You pull him close and he moans into your mouth as you kiss him. The sound of his evident pleasure sends heat tearing through you. You make a mental note to tell your future lovers to share their vocal appreciation because the sounds Prince Friedrich is making are driving you wild. 

As you kiss him, you lead him over to the loose pile of straw and get to the floor. The straw is scratchy on your bare arms but your legs are thankfully spared by the protection of your skirts. 

“When the time comes to do this with your lady wife, you should both undress. But our clothes will remain on - mostly. This is more convenient if there’s an unexpected intruder. Plus, this hay is itchy.”

“Allow me,” says Prince Freidrich, sitting back on his knees and pulling off his jacket. For a second you wonder if he’s misunderstood what you said about undressing but then he flattens his jacket on the straw behind you for you to lie on.

If you were the swooning type, you might just have fainted then and there.

“May I?” he asks, touching the hem of your skirt at your ankle. You nod and he pushes up your skirts. You lift your hips, allowing him to remove your satin underwear. “Verdammt,” he breathes. He moves his head between your legs and you almost sit up in surprise. You don’t mind him having a better look at you if it’s his first time but this feels extremely personal.

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

He looks up at you and you pull your skirts close to your stomach. “My book - it said to kiss you here to make sure you are ready.” His face is so close to you that you can feel his hot breath against your pussy.

“Your book said to kiss me… there?” Your eyebrows knit together but you think about how his tongue felt swirling inside your mouth and a stab of ache pierces through your ribs. 

“It is not customary?” You shake your head and he frowns in confusion but doesn’t move. 

And you realise that you don’t want him to go anywhere. That the idea of him kissing you there in the skilled way he was kissing your mouth inflames you. Out of amused interest, you lift yourself up onto one elbow only to find him looking at you intently, hanging on your every word, waiting to find out what he should do. You realise that you rather like the look of him here, between your legs.

“You -” You swallow. “- You may try. If it pleases you. But I warn you, I - oh -”

Your warning dissipates into the air as Prince Friedrich leans down and glides his hot tongue deep into the seam of your pussy with absolutely no hesitation. You feel yourself relax as you let him get on with this custom he’s learned from his book. You admit, it’s not unpleasant. But you’re not sure what he’s trying to achieve. 

It sort of feels like when you touch yourself. Maybe less dextrous but it’s hotter and wetter and - and - 

Good lord.

Much to your surprise - and your delight - you feel a soft, delicious warmth spreading from your core as he kisses you where you’ve never been kissed before. You splay your fingers through his blonde hair - your other hand still clutching your dress as his velvet mouth envelops your clutch of nerves and a wave of pleasure cascades through your body.

“Oh - oh fuck,” you curse, not caring that you’re swearing in front of the Prince. He pulls back abruptly and you pant.

“My lady?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

“Yes - god, yes,” you whine, impatient for his mouth to return to you.

He looks at you with that same subtle glint of authority he gave you this morning and says, “In that case, you are not keeping up with your side of the bargain. You promised you’d tell me what feels good.” 

Prince Friedrich dips his head and resumes, going from sucking on your clit to lapping up your juices and back again as you squirm and rock against him. This time you remember to hold up your side of the bargain. You pant and tell him how good his mouth feels - how good he feels. Everything is soaked, from your skirts to his chin and nose as he lets you grind yourself against his face. 

The flat of his tongue slides across your heat and it’s heavenly. Usually, when you’re with a partner, you’re used to working hard for your release - at the exact right position and tempo to pry yourself apart. But right now you’re just lying back and taking what Prince Friedrich’s tongue offers to you. And it’s offering exactly what you need.

“Don’t stop,” you mewl. “So good. S’good. So good -”

You feel yourself unravelling, your praise and words of affirmation turning into an incoherent babble as your orgasm breaches the surface. You must be making some semblance of sense because he listens - he keeps going and it’s all too much and not enough at once as your walls squeeze around nothing while Prince Friedrich continues his delicious assault on your bundle of nerves. 

Damn. You do your very best not to cry out and draw attention to the stables as Prince Friedrich gets closer and closer to making you cum on his tongue. But it’s nigh impossible as you feel the heat rise from your stomach and pull back like the tide. 

And then there’s the drop you’d been waiting for. 

“Oh - god,” you moan, drawing out the last syllable so that it drips as slowly as treacle. Ecstasy courses through your body as your release washes over you, making your thighs tremble on either side of the Prince’s head. Your chest heaves and you gently tug on his hair, away from your oversensitive cunt. “That’s - that��s good. It’s good. It’s enough,” you gasp before collapsing your head back onto his jacket.

Prince Friedrich gives you a few more slow, gentle licks and murmurs, “So feucht.” before drawing a finger over your twitching, soaking wet entrance, admiring his own handiwork. You don’t know what his words mean and you don’t have the cognizance to ask as you stare up at the wooden beams and try to regain your senses. 

After what feels like a lifetime of bliss, you’re happy for your view of the stable roof to be interrupted when Prince Friedrich moves up your body to kiss you and you taste the unfamiliar taste of your arousal on his lips. You kiss him back, slipping your tongue into his mouth and nipping at his bottom lip. God, this was supposed to be you teaching him a few things - not the other way around. When you anonymise this encounter and retell it to your friends later they will certainly be hearing about this.

“Good?” he asks when he pulls back and you nod, before swallowing air.

“I have half a mind to sell my estate and move to Prussia after the social season is over if that is what they do there,” you say breathlessly. 

He smirks. “I have told you that it could be arranged. Come home with me and we won’t have to be discreet. We could do this every day.”

You pout playfully and push a loose curl from his forehead. “But I like the stables,” you joke even though your back is aching and a palace bed sounds much more appealing. 

“Well, we have stables in Prussia. You could bring Artemis.”

Artemis. 

He remembered her name. 

Your face softens as you picture her as a royal steed, wearing a white feathered plume like she’s the diamond of the season. 

But then the fleeting daydream disappears when you tell yourself that it’s a fantasy you can’t allow either of you to indulge in. As much as Queen Charlotte favours you, you know it would be seen as unacceptable for the Prince to marry someone from such a minor house.

And besides, you remind yourself that you don’t need a royal husband. You have your own home. You have your own horses. You have your own friends. You have everything you’ve ever wanted. But then, why does the thought of him making his social season debut at the ball tomorrow make your heart ache?

“There’s something else I’d like to ride, presently,” you say, in an attempt to rid the thought from your mind as you gently push on his shoulders until he lies on his back. 

You straddle the Prince and unfasten his trousers so you can pull his cock out. The sight of him, hard and ready for you and the way he twitches involuntarily in your palm makes your heart pound as hard and steady as horses hooves galloping.

You wriggle forward until you feel the smooth underside of his cock sliding under your messily slick folds, still wet from the orgasm the Prince had bestowed upon you with his mouth. A flicker of dark enjoyment ignites in you when you see a line between his brows as he knits them together and watches as you lift your skirts so he can watch you sliding back and forward along the length of his cock.

“Do you enjoy watching me do this, Your Highness?” you ask as you grind against him.

“I would enjoy watching you do anything,” he says, pushing your gown out of the way to take hold of your hips. “Du bist schön.”

You pause. “Do what?” 

“Nothing. Please. Don’t stop.” He presses his thumbs into your hipbones, urging you to create friction against him again. 

“You don’t want to fuck me?”

“Isn’t - isn’t that what we’re doing?” stutters Prince Friedrich. 

“Oh, my sweet Prince.” You bring your hand to his jaw as you lift yourself so you can position the head of his cock between your soaking folds with your other hand. “We’re only just getting started.”

You lock eyes with him and watch his face contort in pleasure as you slowly sink down, inch by glorious fucking inch. “Oh gott,” he whines. Your German is poor but you’re pretty confident you know what that means. 

“Let me know when you’re going to spill - I don’t want to carry your bastard,” you murmur, still cupping his face. “Do you understand?”

“Ja,” he says through gritted teeth. “I understand.”

You’re not sure he really does but that primal part of your brain that wants to fuck him now and worry about the consequences later tells you to shove your hips down against the resistance. You force the rest of his thick cock into you and inhale through your teeth, feeling the delicious way he stretches and fills you. His hands clamp down hard on your hips, his thumbs pressing fresh bruises into your hipbones. 

They don’t make them like this in Kettering. Or London for that matter. Equal parts sweet and naive yet firm and decisive. He doesn’t know what he wants yet but he still wants it. Desperately. 

As if proving your point, you lean forward to feel the beautiful way he drags out of you and he seizes the opportunity to bury his face into your cleavage, your corseted dress making it exceptionally easy for him. 

He moans open-mouthed against your chest, his tongue sloppily trying to find your nipple. You move your hips back and down and wildfire bursts in your lower belly when his cock nudges against that sweet spot you’ve been longing for. 

It’s not enough for him - he wants more. He lifts his hips and the tip of his cock drives against your G-spot.

“Oh - fuck. Freidrich. That feels good.”

“So it is okay for me to move too?” he asks.

“Please,” you murmur, closing your eyes and feeling him slide back into you at that perfect angle. 

You don’t need to tell him twice.

He rolls his hips upwards to meet yours as you ride him. You can hear how fucking wet you are.  Everything is slick and hot and drenched as you roll your hips up and down on top of him and he fucks himself into you.

“So schön,” he grunts and the foreign words sound guttural to your ears. 

“I hope that means ‘good’,” you tease, leaning forward to breathe hot air onto his neck.

“Pretty,” he murmurs in your ear. “So pretty.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage as his hips pick up pace. Fuck - you like him being under you like this. Even here, in the stables where someone might come looking if they notice that Prince Friedrich is missing from his chambers. 

The sound of your stretched, wet cunt fills the stables so obscenely that it peppers shame into your consciousness. But he hears it too. He jerks up so fiercely that his balls slap against you. You suck air in through your teeth at the sharp sting and he looks concerned but you reassure him. “It’s - oh fuck - keep going. Right there.”

You go from slamming yourself down on him to your whole body stiffening, letting him drive up into you as your hot orgasm approaches, creeping over you in pulsing waves. Your walls grip him, tightening and convulsing as -

“I should - tja - remove myself from inside you -” he stops thrusting up into you and you almost wail with disappointment.

“No - fuck - keep going.” What are you saying? You rock your hips and bounce on him, every nerve inside you applauding your decision to ignore your conscience as you manage to hang onto the precipice. “Don’t stop.”

“I’m going to -”

“Fuck it,” you heave, your walls squeezing impossibly tighter as you fuck yourself on him. “Cum in me. I don’t care.” What the fuck are you saying?!

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. 

It’ll be fine. 

You’ve had an accident or two and have been lucky so far.

You may as well have told the Prince that Christmas had come early. The sight of your flushed face, dishevelled hair and the way your tits are threatening to spill out of your dress with every bounce of your hips drives him wild. 

Frankly, you’re the most deliciously intoxicating thing he’s ever experienced. He just doesn’t have the necessary vocabulary to tell you this in English.

By this point, “Oh gott,” is the only thing he says that you can understand. You hardly hear the rest as he babbles away in German - you can barely hear anything over the pulse of blood pounding in your ears as Friedrich picks up his pace again. Your body locks down around him so tightly you wonder if you might break him. 

“Just like that - fuck, there,” you whimper. He takes the instruction well, driving his cock deep into you - exactly where you need it. The coil of heat in your core tightens impossibly tighter as he chokes words you don’t understand into your ear as he pulls you close to his chest

Maybe one day he’ll teach you what those words mean and you’ll find out that he was telling you what a good girl you are for taking his cock like this.

“Fuck - I’m - that’s it,” you sob, your chest heaving against his fine silk shirt and your fingers entwined in his soft blonde hair. You squeeze around him like a vice. “Friedrich, I -”

“Do it,” he groans. You hadn’t expected him to say that. And certainly not with the commanding tone he chooses. “Let me feel it.”

The coil inside you snaps. A blaze of white-hot fire bursts through you like stitches being ripped. You seize and cry out as your release whips through you with such force that you think you might go cross-eyed. You bury your face into his neck, smelling the rich sandalwood scent splashed on his skin, mixed with his sweat. 

Freidrich keeps his tight hold of your hips, fucking into you even as you shake and tremble. 

“Ich komme,” breathes the Prince. “Ich komme, ich komme.” It only takes a few more rough, slapping thrusts until you don’t have to guess what that means. You feel him finishing inside you, thick ropes of his spend painting your insides. 

You lie here like this for a few moments, collapsed onto his chest and feeling his seed leaking out of you. You feel dizzy as his chest rises and falls underneath you and his fingers tenderly trace lines up and down your back. He closes his eyes, feeling the satin of your gown as his fingertips dance across it.

You could easily fall asleep like this.

Instead, you hoist yourself off him and lie flat on your back as if unattaching yourself from him will place a barrier between you. Put a halt to the immense surge of affection you feel for him in this moment. But he doesn’t let you get far. Prince Friedrich rolls onto his side and cups your face, his thumb tracing your cheekbone and skirting across your lips before he leans down to kiss you. You close your eyes, letting the kiss dissolve into a wet, lazy haze.

He pulls back and looks down into your eyes. “I promised I would not ask for your hand when this was over. So I have nothing else to say.”

“At least now you are prepared for the social season beginning tomorrow.”

“I don’t care about the season. I want to leave. Tonight. To take you with me.”

“I don’t have the wealth or the beauty for that to be allowed to happen,” you say. “The Queen would never find us to be a suitable match. Never mind Lady Whistledown having a field day.”

“You have more than enough of both for me.”

“For you, Friedrich. But not enough for Prince Friedrich. Not enough for The Crown,” you say, your heart breaking as you do. This was a bad idea, after all. You adjust your gown and get to your feet, pretending to ignore Prince Friedrich’s attempts to help you up.

“And what about my - my seed? What if you’re with child?”

You laugh mirthlessly. “We’d have to be exceptionally unlucky for that to happen on our first try. Put it far from your mind. Go and meet with the diamond of the season tomorrow and all of the ladies queuing up to become the Princess Consort of Prussia. They will make you much happier than I ever could.”

You walk towards the stable door but he takes your hand and gives you your discarded gloves. “Please don’t go.”

“I’m sorry, Friedrich.” You can’t. You can hear the gossip already. A thousand people whispering behind your back about how you’re not good enough for the Prince. It would be like that every day for the rest of your life in the spotlight if you did marry him. You tear your eyes away from him and open the stable door. 

“Will I ever see you again?” he asks after you.

You pause and turn around. “Perhaps.” You smile at him sadly. “Who knows? If I am with child, maybe you’ll have no choice but to whisk me away back to Prussia and marry me, never to be seen in London ever again. And everyone will wonder why.”

You turn back before he can see your face crumble, leaving the stable door open behind you as Prince Friedrich watches you leave into the night. Your mare whinnies, nudging him gently over her stable door.

Prince Friedrich gives in to her pestering and scratches her neck, much to her enjoyment. Before dawn, he will write a letter. To make sure a stall is prepared for Artemis in the palace stables in Prussia.

Just in case.

#bridgerton #prince friedrich #prince friedrich x reader #bridgerton smut #smut #fanfic

[thanosthefuckingplum]

first off the list…

stardew valley <3

harvey x reader- doctors orders

youve been dodging your appointment for months now. an embarrassing amount. so, lucky for you, your neighbor shane is helping you out by forcing you to go!! aren’t you just lucky. now you have to try and pretend you DONT want to have sex with your doctor. have fun!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a screeching cry from your horse woke you from your slumber, bringing you a shocking way to wake up. shooting up from bed, you shoved yourself into some pants and scurried outside, the brightness of the lovely 6am sun blinding you. sure, farm life was great. the responsibility, the freedom, the cute animals you would take care of, it was nice.

your neighbour, shane, not as nice. especially on mornings like this, where his idea of helping out was trying to clean out your poor horses nails.

“y/n!! did i wake ya?” he chuckled a bit, knowing damn well what he started. he pulled himself up from the ground he held your horses shoes at, as it let out a huff of frustration. wiping his forehead, he grinned at you.

“thought ya wouldn’t mind if i helped you with your horse this time around. i usually deal with the chickens but..”

sighing, dramatically, you raised a brow. what an idiot. but, he was your best friend, and had always been since you first moved here. sure, he wasn’t doing so great when you first met, but he’s cleaned himself up a bit. thankfully. for your sake, and for jas.

“shane..” you laughed a bit, almost in disbelief at his attempts. “thanks, but i don’t think poor maverick deserves any of what you’re trying to do.”

giving you a somewhat cocky, but pouty expression, he practically dropped with sarcasm as he whined, “you don’t appreciate my hard work.” he strolled over, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“need me to give you something to do?” you asked, gesturing your head towards your coops, full of clucking creatures that would be oh so grateful if you decided to give them their morning due.

“actually,” he began, pulling out a crumply letter that you assumed he’d pulled from your mailbox. “the doc wants you to go for your checkup.”

“you went through my mail?” you huffed, crossing your arms. he had a tendency to do that, especially when he was the one sending it. he was confident in his ability to give you good gifts. like pizza. or that weird bun recipe? which you’ve never tried? and probably won’t?

his grin turning into a more mischevious smirk, he nodded his head. “sure did, farmer. i’m sure he’s gonna have a very important conversation with you today,” he wiggled his eyebrows, childish as ALWAYS.

sometimes you wish he stayed the emo alcoholic he was before.

“shane!” you began, flustered as you snatched the sheet from his hand, scanning it quickly. just a nice, quick and brief letter. no connotations whatsoever. but shane knew you would overthink it. that little crush you had on your doctor was no secret.

“and it’s first thing in the morning too. must’ve been thinking about you all ni-“

SMACK.

giving him a hard tap on the shoulder, you smacked him away, making your way past him, burning with embarrassment. steam practically seethed from your ears. “i. will deal with that. after YOU deal with the chickens, kay?”

rubbing his arm while wincing a bit, he began his walk to your coops. “boo. you’re no fun.”

no fun? no fun??

sitting in your doctors office, bouncing your leg with anticipation and nervousness was definitely your idea of fun.

the clock in harvey’s clinic was broken. not in the way that you couldn’t read the time, but the sound it made. the incredibly clacky ticks it would make like it was on its last legs. which it basically was. speaking of last legs..

“come back as soon as you need it, george!” harvey’s voice came from behind the door, creaking open as evelyn, pushing george through the door that harvey held for them.

“thank you, doctor harvey. you are too kind.” evelyn, the sweet old lady she was, always so generous with her words. it made poor harvey so bashful. it was cute.

she smiled to you, the anxious little farmer sitting in the waiting room, ignoring the shaking of your leg. “good luck, dearie.” george, much unlike his wife, completely ignored your interaction, crabby as always.

harvey snapped his head to face you. “ah, y/n. early, i see?” of course, you had shown up 25 minutes sooner than you had to. shane was starting to push your buttons, what else were you to do?

nervously, you cleared your throat, the ringing bell or the door to the clinic closing filling the room. you spoke, “y-yeah, haha. i just was excited to-“ he raised a brow, allowing you to pursue your sentence despite your obvious hesitation. “ah, see what you wanted from me.”

“excited?” your doctor had a smirk creeping on his face, “i surely haven’t heard that term before when used in my office, but it does have a nice ring to it.”

you were just as shocked as him, listening to yourself talk. sometimes you wondered how you even managed to speak to people with the things that came to your mind in conversation.

“glad to hear..” you breathed, standing up from your seat. “so.. you called me in for..?” you inquired, hands stuffed into your pockets uncomfortably as you shuffled over to him.

“mm, yes.” harvey hummed, making room for you to walk into his office, almost pressing himself into the wall. he was too polite for his own good. nonetheless, he spoke, “i just had a few things i needed to discuss. nothing to panic about.” he reassured you, knowing how you felt in his office. ever since you’d first moved to pelican town, you’d always been nervous going to his office. sure, 5 years living here, you’d think that you would be used to it by now.

maybe it wasn’t just the office..

oh, for sure. it was him.

you couldn’t help it. he was so gentle with you. the way he’d make sure you were comfortable with everything he was doing, everywhere he was touching. always asking questions, and he was so, so charming. and his hands-

“take a seat, please.”

his orotund voice instructed you, his hand held out towards the medical bed. as you made your way over, he grabbed his clipboard and set a sheet of paper under the clip.

“okay…” he mumbled, mostly to himself, sliding his pen down the sheet, almost as if he was observing a checklist. your leg, subconsciously, began to bounce.

sliding a chair up to the bed, he took a seat, huffing a bit as he did, almost getting relaxed in the chair and slumping his hips forward. he clicked his own, and gazed up at you through his glasses.

“just going to ask you a few.. introductory questions, as usual.” he looked back down at his sheet, taking a moment of pause before speaking up once again.

“what has your diet been like?” he asks, genuinely. he had a way with his clients, his patients, you supposed. he always cared, perhaps due to the size of the town, being so small and insignificant if you weren’t apart of it. he was interested in the lives of the people he worked with, or maybe he was just interested in you.

“ah, since it’s summer, i’ve been having lots of strawberries from the farm. corn, too. lots of corn..” you sighed, feeling a bit sluggish at the thought of returning to your farm and ripping off those corn stems again.

“so, mostly your own crops, then?” he raised a brow, curiosity swirling in his eyes. he’d always been so fascinated with the idea of living on a farm. it was appealing, being in control of your own business. to him, at least.

nodding your head, you looked at him, for the first time this appointment, already feeling your face grow hot at his intense eye contact.

“yes, usually.”

scribbling a note into his clipboard, it felt like the silence was collapsing in on you two. it was hot, you felt hot.

he clicked his tongue, seemingly satisfied with whatever he wrote down, and looked back up.

“i’m assuming you’re good with exercise, of course. your body is great.”

he hesitated, a bit, seeming to overthink his words.

and with good reason, the implications of his sentence gave you a chill down your spine, feeling flustered and uncomfortable in your seat, suddenly. like you had to jump up, go for a run.

“uh, health wise, i-i mean. not that you don’t look great.” he corrected himself, a bit breathless as he spoke, knowing damn well he’d just made it worse. he couldn’t help but put emphasis on his words. either way, he hurriedly moved on, observing his sheet once more.

you sat in anxious silence, still bouncing your leg. there wasn’t much in his office. not much noise, except if you listened, his breathing. it was heavy, much like your own. like he’d been the one being examined this entire time. yet, he was the one with his eyes on you.

“are you.. sexually active?”

feeling yourself grow hotter by the second, you cleared your throat. “um, n-no. not currently.” why did you say it that way? why did you overthink your words so much, too? he’s asked you this question a dozen times, every appointment, and for some reason, you felt so, so, on edge just from his voice. the way he asked you. his voice was low, as usual, but it was gruff. like he’d been talking too much.

“mm.” he hummed, again, scribbling on his board. his face was pink, his ears mostly. which really sold him out. he’d like to think he was more nonchalant, especially when it came to appointments with you. he was glad nobody else had to come in today. he could take his time with you.

“just to confirm, you are aware this is a physical exam, yes?” he cocked his brow, almost inquisitively. like, he knew you weren’t aware. he was dying to touch you already, even if it was strictly kept professional. something about the way you would shiver every time his hands grazed your skin gave him a sense of superiority. he liked it.

but you, a tad shock stricken, nodded your head. “ah, i’m aware now.” you murmured, fiddling with the ring on your finger, feeling awfully shy, worse than before. now he has to touch you, and oh god, you weren’t sure how your body would react.

“i did give you a warning on the letter, don’t stress about missing it,” he said as a gentle reminder, setting down his board. he stood up, adjusting his jacket before taking it off, smoothing it out as he set it down on his desk.

slowly, almost trying to antagonize you, he began rolling up his sleeves, buttoning the cuffs. looking back over at you, shaky leg and all, he chuckled a bit. he grabbed another chair, sliding it in front of you. this one was a bit more at your level. when he sat on it, he was taller than you now.

“no need to be nervous, y/n, we’ve done this before.”

harvey attempted to put you more at ease, which was of course, helpless. he knew you wouldn’t relax. as much as he wished you would. not like he could help it though, he knew how you reacted around him. it’s not like it was a secret.

every physical between you two was the same. his cold hands against your warm skin, giving you the chills. he’d apologize, and you’d breathlessly apologize back, for being so nervous. and he’d say, “no, please, it’s okay.”

as you began snapping back to reality, there he was standing in front of you, pulling on a pair of medical gloves. leaning down to your level, he made himself face to face with you. a snap came from his wrist as he gave you a smile. voice low and pleasant, he spoke,

“i’ll be gentle.”

your helpless attempts to keep yourself still were.. to say the least, pathetic. he started off normal, as most appointments go, but the moment his hands went to feel your waist, you lost any sense of normality.

as soon as harveys hands grazed your waist, your back seemingly out of reflex, arched forward, causing you let out a gentle gasp. he looked up at you, again, through his glasses, raising his brow. frantically, you immediately went to apologize,

“i-im sorry. i get-“

he squeezed your waist a bit, almost teasingly, like he was scolding a dog for stealing a treat off the counter.

“ah, ah, no apologizing anymore. doctors orders.” he was stern, commanding. that wasn’t a recommendation, that was a demand. and you weren’t about to ignore it. especially with how he looked at you as he spoke. his eyes were slightly hooded, almost as if he was tired and had just woke up moments prior. but he was focussed, hyper aware of every movement you made, and even more hyper aware of every apology you’d been mumbling each time you’d make a sound.

saying nothing, you nodded your head, making a slight ‘mhm’ in response. his brows furrowed a bit, as he sat up. suddenly, it didn’t feel like you were in the doctors office anymore. he seemed on the verge of cracking, feeling a sort of lack of confidence in his professionalism. one more word from you and he was sure he’d break.

“good job.” he purred, pulling his seat in closer. he set his hands on your knees, he was above you now, from this angle, looking down at you as he spoke,

“i’m going to have to get a bit more invasive, i’m sure you don’t mind, do you?” he inquired, knowing full well your answer. taking a large breath, a shaky one, you spoke,

“please.”

without a moment of hesitation, you were kissing your doctor. every time you’d thought about it, you’d never imagined it would be like this. his hands on your thighs, locked lips so hotly you could barely breathe. the both of you didn’t want to separate, feeling so nice together. harvey refused to let go of you, his hand sliding up your hip to grab your waist.

he took his time feeling you, letting his hands praise your body. it was different than during your check ups, now. he was able to go wherever he wanted, however he wanted. learn your body more than just how the textbooks said it would feel.

“ah, i’ve felt this.. aching, for months.” harvey crooned through kisses, only taking a bit of a pull away to look at you, admiring the redness of your cheeks, and how hot you felt, and how beautiful you were.

“i cant believe i let myself take forever to touch you like this.”

god, he was making it difficult to stay quiet. your mind was foggy, swarmed with thoughts of what he was going to do next. where his hands were going, how hard he was going to kiss you, and where. and how his lips tasted when they were connected with yours. and how he’s just as desperate as you are, and how you wanted him more than anything right now.

he stood up slowly and almost hesitantly, keeping his head down to yours, not allowing your lips to keep themselves apart. his breath was minty, fresh and it tasted just the same. it was delicious. as he stood, his knee slid between your legs, moving his hand to your back to push you further into it, more against the edge of the medical bed. “mm, much better.” he whispered, mostly to himself, feeling the heat between your legs against his knee.

quietly, you let out a little noise, taking hold of his arm and gripping his dress shirt with your nails. harvey, sucking in air through his teeth, pressed you further up against him, your chests together.

“please don’t stop grabbing me like that.” he whispered, placing a final kiss on your cheek before lowering his head down, nuzzling himself into your neck. his hand was teasing you, pressing and rubbing circles into the nerve in your hip, sending waves of pleasure into your groin. he knew the body so well, and man, were you grateful for it.

his knee left your thighs as he pressed his tongue to your neck, giving you a shiver of arousal down your spine and earning a gentle moan from you. “ah, so you’re sensitive there?”

“e-everywhere, doc.”

he felt the hairs behind his neck rise as you spoke, “doc? you want to keep me in charge, do you?”

whining a little, you nodded, “i want you.” your voice was so scratchy, feeling weak and unable to breathe. but in the best way, knowing it was him that could make you feel like this. vulnerable.

“mm.” his voice was lustful as he crooned to you, “you do, do you? how about you get on your knees then? doctors orders, y/n.”

a chill crawled up your neck, arousal burning through your veins. you were so willing to listen to him, immediately making your way to the floor, sitting on your knees with your hands set on your lap.

he tilted his head to the side, strumming his thumb across your cheek. “good,” he whispered to you, sliding his thumb across your jaw. you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes and just leaving yourself there, only for a moment, before took his hand away.

slowly, harvey began to unbutton his work slacks, looking down to you. “you’re okay with this?” he asked, his hand stuck on his zipper. how sweet of him. he was so reassurance, always fining you a way out. even in his appointments, your check ups, he would always make sure you were doing okay.

of course, this situation was.. much different.

“yes. of course, harvey.” you purred, looking up at him with hooded eyes. “i’ve been wanting this just as much as you.” you insisted, unable to calm the giddy feeling in your chest at the thought of pleasing the man you’ve been obsessing over for the past.. way too long.

he groaned, a slight whine in his eagerness, unzipping his pants and pulling them down, revealing the tent that you gave him. you leaned forward, taking the initiative, and allowing yourself to take his cock yourself.

lucky for you, he was the perfect size, something you had problems with other men before. as you gazed up at him with admiration, he was holding his hand against his face, redness pouring into his cheeks. he was looking away from you, hiding his gaze.

you chuckled a bit, wrapping your hand around his length. “shy?” you teased, before opening your mouth and teasing the tip with your tongue.

“haah..” he breathed, immediately looking back down to you. your eyes, with batting eyelashes, were sending him spiraling, he could barely contain himself. “beautiful, y/n.” he whispered, placing his hand on the back of your head.

you teased him for a bit longer, not wanting to give him the satisfaction just yet. it was payback for all those times he’d done this to you during your check ups. all those times maru had interrupted just as his hand would slide up your thigh. all those times he’d murmur in your ear, knowing the implications behind his phrases.

“ng, no more of that.” he grunted, pushing your head further onto his cock. you hesitated, just for a moment, before finding a steady rhythm, swirling your tongue around him. his low and guttural moan told you he liked it.

“that’s good, that’s sooo good, don’t stop.” harvey sighed, rocking his hips back and forth slowly, but surely, as he found grip on your hair, pulling it up into a bundle in his large hands. each time your hand would twist a certain way, it would elicit a content moan from your doctor, and a mumble of praise. he knew where he wanted you to touch, where he wanted your mouth to go. and he would lead you there, pushing your head down, filling your mouth more with his length. it was addicting, his praise. his touch. you were willing to do anything for him at this point. anything to hear that pretty voice of his call you perfect.

“ha..” he chuckled, running his fingers through his hair, ruffling it a bit. “y-you keep doing that, i don’t know how much longer i can-“ he groaned, through his teeth, his brows furrowing. you had found a new pace on his cock, one that he particularly enjoyed. “ahg, last..”

you smirked a little against him, finding a sick pleasure in his weak points. seeing him made humble. it didn’t last long though, as his grip on your hair tightened, pulling you in.

“y-yeah? like seeing me all bent out of shape because of you?” he gasped, feeling himself drawing closer to his finish. “wanna make me.. nervous?” he panted out, a whine laced in his tone. he was less confident now, his voice shaky and weak.

pulling away with a pop, you smirked, “i really really do-“ you said with a mischievous grin, feeling proud of yourself.

sadly, that pride didn’t pursue much longer. he took the opportunity of you soaking in your pride to take you by the jaw and pull your face up to look up to him. you gasped in shock, though he had a soft expression, he had a smug smile smacked on his face.

“your turn.” harvey purred, helping you pull yourself up with the grip on your jaw and allowing him to hold you closer, wrapping his hand around your waist and squeezing it as he spoke, “go on, sit. you don’t need me to make you, do you?”

“no, sir,” the words fell out of your mouth so effortlessly, like you weren’t thinking before you spoke. and you weren’t. it was humorous, really, how you could go from so confident to needy and obedient so quickly. he loved it.

the nickname ‘sir’ gave him chills, giving him that sweet feeling of superiority over you. sure, he had his fair share of sex in college, but he was never confident enough to be able to actually execute the fantasies in his mind.

but now, he had you.

and you were all his.

with zero hesitation, you were pressed on the bed, the plastic sheet crinkling beneath you. your back was already arching just from the thoughts rushing through your head. what was harvey going to do now? how much better was it going to feel? your eyes went to his hands, watching him as he slowly removed his gloves.

“cant have those..” he mumbled to himself, tossing the gloves aside before crawling above you on the bed. his shadow fell over you, enshrouding you in him. his hip bones pressed up to your own, leaning his head down to your ear, mustache brushing against your skin as he whispered,

“stay still.”

as harvey found his place with his lips buried in your neck, you could feel his hand slide down your waist, sensitivity making you suck in from his touch. you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you, just from knowing what he was going to do. it was like a dream, you felt crazy. your brain couldn’t comprehend anything now, except how badly you wanted his hands to keep going.

and they did.

harvey tugged on the hook of your farm slacks, giving you the opportunity to pull them down yourself, and wrap your arms around his back underneath his own. feeling your hands on him, he let out a sigh. “i love when you touch me, y/n.”

“i love touching you.”

letting his mind wander for only a brief moment, harvey groaned, his thoughts going everywhere but appropriate places. he was glad he was living it, instead of just imagining it. sitting at his desk, thoughts of you invading his mind. poor maru, asking why he was so zoned out.

he was teasing you, holding his hand just above your crotch and the brink of your panties,leaving it there. your legs shook, and you bucked your hips slightly forward and up against his palm.

“please.” you whined, feeling an overwhelming tightness building in your groin. it was paralyzing, almost, the way you felt so weak. and it irritated you, how he was treating you like this. of course, it was him doing it, so you didn’t mind. he was spoiling you just by allowing you this opportunity.

just as much though, you were spoiling him. he was so grateful he was able to touch you like this.

harvey chuckled a little, pleased with your whimpering. he slowly pressed his finger against your clit, the fabric rubbing up against it as he slowly drew circles on it. you gasped, your back immediately arching up. you cursed a bit, under your breath, gaining a sinful sigh from him as he smiled at you in satisfaction.

you tugged on the band of your panties, hoping he’d get the hint to remove them. “harvey..” you whispered, pathetically.

he raised a brow, a straight expression screwed to his face. “hmm?”

“take these off.” impatiently, you spoke, in a slightly stern tone, finished with all this teasingly vague touch. harvey, startled at your sudden tone, blew up in red, clearing his throat. “ah, aha.. if you insist,

y/n.”

you had to admit, you liked how flustered he became. how you could feel his grip tighten on the sheet beneath you. how his brows furrowed because of how flustered he became.

as harvey slid down your underwear to your ankles, you kicked them off the bed urgently, adjusting your position to be further up against his hand, earning an amused hum from him. he was reminded of you, and your position beneath him, and it gave him a delicious feeling of warmth in his groin.

his hand returned to his place between your legs, beginning a sort of circular motion on your clit with his thumb before slowly sliding a finger inside, eliciting a sweet moan from you. he hummed, quite satisfied with himself, and created a gentle rhythm.

harvey was talented with his hands, there was no doubt about it, you thought, grateful that your doctor was the man he was. you were lucky, for sure, having such a dexterous man being the one finding his place inside of you. and you showed him your gratefulness, rewarding him with moans of ecstasy just from his hand.

he got comfortable, inserting another fing-

“doctor harvey?” a knock came from the door.

you jumped, breath catching in your throat, causing his finger to twist upwards pressing into your g spot, causing a moan you couldn’t help to begin to slip from your lips. harvey hurriedly slapped his free hand to your mouth, giving you a stern expression.

“y-yes, maru?” he stuttered out, his thumb almost subconsciously continuing to massage your clit, screwing your eyes shut in pleasure.

“i was just wondering if you needed any extra support with your paperwork.. i know you’ve been busy..” she sounded hesitant, like she had more to say.

“no, no. i’ve got it all covered,” he said, so casual, despite the bead of sweat dripping down his forehead and the occasional hard swallow. he looked back to you, the smallest and most mischevious smirk on his face.

slowly, he put another finger in, curling them up into your g-spot, making you buck your hips forward up into his hand, almost on instinct, like a reflex.

“ah- harvey-!” you gasped into his hand, and he simply pressed it harder onto your mouth.

“keep it down, y/n.” he whispered, “cant have maru hearing you whimper like that, can we?”

slowly, maru wrapped her hand around the handle, beginning to twist it, “are you sure? i can-“

“i-im quite sure! thank you! i believe you have work to do, don’t you?” harvey rushed, a shot of fear running through his body at the thought of his assistant catching him like this with a patient.

with you, at that. yet, a rush of excitement ran through his mind at the same thought.

“if you insist..” she let go of the door, her footsteps clicking across the floor as she made her way back to the office.

you let out a sigh of relief into his hand as he removed it, boiling up a bit of anger. “h-harvey! what were you-“

“sh.” he whispered, “don’t act like you don’t like the rush.. i know i do.” he sighed, breathing a huff of air. “as nervous as it makes me..” he mumbled the last half under his breath, as if you weren’t sharing your most vulnerable parts together. he still wanted to be perfect for you. taking his fingers out, causing you to sigh in frustration, he fumbled a bit, grabbing your hips.

“can i…?” he asked, his eyes trailing down to his length, feeling overwhelmed with the idea of being inside of you. he’d been waiting too long, and knowing now that maru had the potential of coming in, he didn’t feel like waiting anymore.

any anger you had against his insane ideas washed away at the thought, and you whined a bit. “oh my yoba, please, yeah.” you groaned, letting your head knock back.

he positioned himself, taking a moment to ensure you were comfortable. “is this… okay?” harvey whispers, only a tad on edge from the almost immediate loss of his job earlier.

“yes, yes, please! how many times are you gonna make me ask?”

“i like the way you say please.”

with that harvey was eager, eager to finally feel himself inside of you. slowly, he began to push his length into you, as you immediately squeezed on him, unable to control how your body naturally reacted to his cock. it was mesmerizing, and thanks to his treatment of you earlier, you weren’t in pain.

“mmgn.. yes..” he whimpered quietly, his head cocking backwards in pleasure just from feeling how you wrapped around his cock. “ahh.. ah- i don’t know..” he whispers, slowly beginning a steady but sloppy pace, “how long.. i can last with you.”

you moan softly, placing your fingers over your mouth. “please please just fuck me while you can.” you gasp, breathless as the feelings overwhelm you, but in the best way. harvey was big, and you didn’t realize it until he was inside of you. but god he felt good.

with absolutely zero reluctance, harvey sped up, panting out gasps and moans, and little whines in between. he lowered himself down to your ear, his breath hitting the cusp of it hotly, his whimpers crisp for you to hear. it was intoxicating. he was intoxicating.

“y/n.. y/n, y/n, y/n..” harvey murmured, the words coming out of his mouth slurred and seductive, bringing a tightness to your groin that made you clench around him.

“don’t stop.. please, doc.” the nickname slipped from your lips again, earning you a satisfying groan in your ear from your lover above you, his thrusts growing faster and harder. his hips grinded against your own, as you brought them into his in a passionate rhythm.

his moans began to sound more like whiny gasps, his confident demeanor diminished. he was so entranced, so desperate to feel good, feel you. and those moans of yours and how tight you felt around his cock and the feeling of your bare skin touching and how hot-

“y/n.. so..so close!” he begged, almost expecting those cries to get you to help him cum, and his voice brought you closer to your finish yourself.

his name left your mouth thoughtlessly, reaching your arms up to pull him close to your chest, nails clawing into his bare back. “yes! yes! like that-ah!” you cry, your legs wrapping around his waist as you cum on him, and he joins in unison.

harvey slows his pace almost immediately, growing quick with fatigue as he pulls himself out of you, shivering at the feeling.

about as exhausted, you shift yourself slightly to sit up, feeling an apparent ache in your body. letting out a huff, you become increasingly aware of how loud the crinkling was on the bed. and then it hits you.

“harvey?”

“y-yes?” he gasps, breathless.

“you.. DO have sound proofing right?”

FIN.

#harvey x reader #harvey x farmer #stardew valley #sdv harvey

[bookwyrminspiration]

…what is the pegasus series even about? i thought it was just horses but im starting to think differently from your posts, chief. why are there aliens and how did they get there

Excellent question, I would love to answer! It is not just about horses in the slightest, my friend. There is one (1) horse, and he isn't even the main character. The series is named after Pegasus but it goes so far beyond him dude. (slight spoilers follow)

The premise of the first book is that THE pegasus (the one horse in the series) has crashed onto the roof of Emily's house, our main character who is struggling to cope with the fairly recent death of her mother. Pegasus arrived injured, and is being chased by these creatures they need to avoid. Emily enlists the help of this guy she's never talked to before but who draws pegasus in his notebooks a lot, Joel, and together they discover that the gods are real and Olympus is in grave danger. They're being overrun by these creatures chasing Pegs and the flame of olympus (which the first book is named for) that fuels them is dying. But! Centuries ago, a piece of that flame was placed in a human girl, passed on for generations, a fail safe so that if the first was ever threatened, that girl could be retrieved and called upon to relight it and save Olympus. Pegasus was on this mission when he was attacked, crashing into Emily's roof (and Diana later shows up to help). This is a spoiler but you could probably guess it turns out that girl is actually Emily and she's gotta go to Olympus to save the gods. There's also a secondary plot with this guy named Paelen who's a godly thief and stole pegasus's bridle, which just so happens to be one of the only things made out of the only material that can harm the creatures destroying olympus. He kinda got caught by this secret government agency called CRU though, and they turn out to be kinda influential and important. But paelen turns over a new leaf and is one of the main characters and main group

That's the first book, and it only gets more complicated from there (much more significant spoilers ahead). Like Emily's dad gets taken by CRU and she sneaks out of olympus to try and rescue him, there's a whole war with those creatures but it turns out they're not actually their enemies and they make peace, the CRU use olympian blood to create hundreds of clones of the olympians, Emily discovers she has inherent knowledge of this ancient race and there's this thing where she and a group of friends all time travel back thousands of years to this war they've heard about, and it turns out they're the crucial people and the only reason the war was won in the future their from is because they traveled to the past to win it. All of which also relates to discovering a new abandoned planet with this ancient species? There's also Lorin, who I dislike, who is like a Titan equivalent of Emily and so jealous and petulant who teams up with CRU against her but later becomes paelen's love interest (I don't know what he sees in her). That book has something to do with a volcano too. THEN there's also the aliens I mentioned, where something about time traveling back to that war fucked with the alien's prisons and set them partially loose, enough that they could start to do things it just took an eternity to build up power, and it turns out (since that was back in the past) they've actually been present in the series the entire time through CRU. The evil secret government organization who has been antagonizing them the whole series. But anyway the aliens are super powerful, so how do they beat them? They blow up the planet and I'm not joking. It's not earth, but their strategy is like lets cut our losses and blow up the planet while they're on it, and it works (planet was evacuated if ur curious, and was going to be completely destroyed by the aliens anyway). Oh and I forgot to mention, about 2/3rds of the way through the series Emily gets a new body. I think it had something to do with either a significant injury or properly channeling her powers, but either way she gets a new body and through the last books she frequently mentions adjusting to seeing a stranger in the mirror and being taller and things like that, which is all sorts of psychologically horrifying when you think about it. Oh and around that time her dad ends up in a relationship with Diana, who has also been really present from the beginning and is the person her new body is based on. And then at the end Emily is offered the opportunity to just peace out and live in a coma for the rest of her life if she doesn't want to deal with life anymore.

So yeah, not about horses! It's named after Pegasus because Pegasus is the inciting incident and afterward he and emily are really really close, they're like a pair and I think may be like. godly linked? because pegs is tied to the flame and emily is the flame so they've got a really sweet friendship and reliance on each other even though Emily doesn't speak horse until a few pages from the end of book 6.

I hope that helps explain it! I don't know how much more detail I could provide without having to reread because its been a while, but this is the gist of it all :)

#the pegasus series #the flame of olympus #kate o'hearn #quil's queries #tw-5 #very little horse when you think about it #like there could be less horse but there couldn't be much less horse #i would like to apologize to pegs though he doesn't like it when he's called a horse #damn those are some blocks of text #long post

[gardenofnoah]

cw: implied sexual trauma, panic attack, intimacy struggles

You don’t notice it happening until it’s buzzing under your skin. Loud and unavoidable, the only thing you can pay attention to is the irregular flutter of your heart and the way it seems that all the air has been vacuumed from the room—

“Hey.”

You blink, and Katsuki is no longer above you. He’s not touching you at all—you turn your head to find him next to you, propped up on an elbow and only worried.

“Too much?”

The panic flares at the question, because what if this is the last time? What if he’s tired of this?

Your exhale is shaky—your laugh is forced and sounds out of place. “No, it was fine, I just—“

“Oi—“ he says, gently, “tell me the truth.”

The truth burns your eyes and keeps them on the ceiling, away from his. You nod, helpless and resigned to whatever comes next.

“What’s goin’ on in your head?”

You feel the tears spill over before you can catch them. You swipe them away with the back of your wrist. It’s still numb. “I’m just sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin it.”

He grunts a little in acknowledgment—a displeased, ugly sound—and then there’s movement that finally draws your eyes to him. You watch him cover himself with your duvet—all the way up to his chin.

“S’it okay if I hold you?”

He reaches for you and you let him pull you in. His hands stay above your shoulders and pointedly avoid your neck—cradling your head, letting you hide in the curve of his throat. His pulse is steady and constant against your forehead—or you imagine it would be, if it wasn’t muted by the fabric.

“Nothin’ is ruined,” he murmurs against your hairline, “s’my job to keep you safe.”

Your chest shudders against the cushion of the blanket and you feel a little guilty about crying all over it but Katsuki keeps you there, tethered to him. The ringing in your ears subsides, just a little. Just enough to hear the panic in your own voice.

“I promise I want it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m sorry—“

“Hey, hey,” he shushes you, careful not to tighten his arms around your shoulders. “Nothin’ to be sorry for. S’too much today—that’s all.”

It’s quiet, then, save for your sniffling. He keeps his mouth pressed to your hair, and his arms wrapped around you. There is a noticeable absence of his fingertips tracing along your skin—you don’t feel them there at all, and it’s on purpose. He’s considerate and it makes you anxious.

“Can hear you thinkin’.”

“I just—“ you inhale, trying to be brave, “I don’t want you to leave. I know I can’t—give you this—“

“Oi,” he gruffs, a little sharply, “I don’t give a shit about that. M’not a barbarian.”

You feel the expansion of his lungs as he draws in a slow exhale, and lets it out against the crown of your head. “Don’t think so little of me,” he murmurs, tone laced with hurt.

“You’re right,” you whisper, because he is, “I love you.”

“Love you.” He kisses it into your skin, soft and barely there. “Always will.”

#i have beat this horse to hell but I really do love writing about struggles with intimacy #because ~i~ struggle with intimacy and I write for me ya know #but idk i think it would be hard for him!! he just wants to care for me and keep me safe and i have a tendency to self sabatoge. #if you can believe that. #he just wants to help and he knows that what happened before him is not his fault of course. but it upsets him when I project onto him #which is like. a very human thing? #i have been thinking about that post from the other day a lot about believing the people that love you #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou hurt comfort #bakugou comfort #bakugou fic #mha fic #bkg it’s the little things

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Name twinsies!

(Based on the community consensus about LWJ's grey horse's name)

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #equineswap au #xiao pingguo #little apple #lan wangji #lan wunian #Took some inspiration from Pio's incredible art of horse wangji because i am merely a student in the art of horse #anyhow when I asked yall about lwj’s horse I did not think it would result in a overwhelming consensus that he’d just use ‘Wangji’ #its funny as hell in canon but as an equineswap? Pure Gold #I also really need to emphasis that the ponies *do talk* in this AU. They are a co-existing civilized species #LWJ (horse) is just a quiet guy. And Little Apple hasn't been around a lot of horses #so she thinks her talking donkey roommate who suddenly switched personalities is an exception not the norm #little apple is constantly violating politeness norms by only addressing the pony’s accompanying human and not them #LWJ has achieved that alicorn immortality in this AU so yeah #this human girl was absolutely named after the horse. Possibly *by* horse lan wangji #sometimes a horse girl raises a horse and sometimes a horse raises a horsegirl #thank you once again to tumblr user clintbeefwoods for suggesting Lan Wunian as another name! It’s very well suited for her! #and i can tag the lan wangjis’ separately now <3

[decepti-geek]

for all that I love Ghosts, I've been getting a very different kind of joy out of watching uploads of a very, very similar show on youtube - The Ghosts of Motley Hall.

Like, a setup where the ghosts actually mostly like each other from the off, so that a huge chunk of the dialogue just goes towards establishing more and more of their meandering, idiosyncratic shared history (especially because the budget was clearly about £1.50 so they have to establish most things through dialogue)... that has its own kind of charm.

#bbc ghosts #the ghosts of motley hall #I'm genuinely not sure how much overlap to expect in terms of ghosts people who have seen this #because I... couldn't find? any mention of the six idiots referencing it they only seem to talk about Rentaghost #so when I first looked into it I was expecting there to be a steady trickle in the Ghosts to finding out about Motley Hall pipeline #but not only does there not appear to be #the show is apparently just WAY more obscure than I anticipated in general? #at least in terms of its presence in any online articles/social media #anyway all this to say I think anyone who's comfortable with suspending disbelief in the name of fun would benefit from knowing about Motle #ie I think more people should #also in terms of ghosts stuff Motley Hall also has a Fanny in it! #The dialogue is just whimsical little joy after joy #'I ALWAYS do the stairs on Thursdays!' #'I don't think they are wirelesses. they have glass fronts.' 'they've got knobs on.' 'well so's a chest of drawers!' #Also one of the things I have found writing about is that Fanny was apparently a fan favourite character back in the day #and I cannot pinpoint a single concrete reason why but I GET IT he's just so entertaining to watch #GOD I just love the dialogue so much 'you think it'll go on forever?' 'nah it'll run out of horses' referring to horse racing on TV #I love Bodkin and his perpetual willingness to position himself as the arbiter of common sense based on very little actual knowledge #'what's he? a soldier?' 'nah that's a policeman' 'what do they do?' 'well they sit in the kitchen and eat jam tarts' #there's so much information contained in that response I love it

[cloudysfluffs]

Don’t listen to haters, everything ever spread about Vivzie was disproven. Your art is cute.

LMAOOOOOOOO NO IT WASNT????????!!??!?!?

#WEIRD take man #first of all there are so many accusations about viv this is so unspecefic #also. no they havent?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? ive seen so much proof. i see more every single day #i mean thank you. for the compliment. #but being critical about media (even media you enjoy) is a good thing. #its important to unpack how the creators beliefs influence the work they produce #disc horse #this is the first thing i saw when i woke up today and it baffled me so much that i couldnt sleep more like i planned lol #anyway. im not saying anyone cant enjoy the show(s). obviously i do A LITTLE if im making fanart #im not saying you have to drop a media if its creators are problematic. in facf i dont like that take #just remember you are not immune to propaganda and vivzies rac/ist/anti/semetic opinions are very much influencing these characters writing #and things like her (SELF ADMITTED) ra/pe fet/ish arent helping. #sorry. this is a rant ive been wanting to say for a while bur have never got to lol #im just so confhsed by what this person even meant??? some of the bad shit shes done is IN THE SHOW. its in there #you can see it. with your eyes . help #anyway again this is literally the first thing i saw when i woke up LMAO if i completely misinterpreted this ask lemme knkw #the assumption that ive just taken the word of a few ''haters'' and havent done my own research into this topic is kind of insulting #what did you expect me to say....??? did you think id just be like 'oh ok :3' ans blindly retract all negative statements

[tardis--dreams]

Some of those doctors make hating oat milk their entire personality. I hate them. Cannot pretend to find them funny or like i give a shit. Fucking pretentious assholes

#also my colleague (the girl i had my shift with) is the exact opposite of me in all aspects. asked me if I'd ever worked in customer service #because i couldn't care less about being fake friendly to assholes and don't care if they like the service or not #like bitch those people don't have any other choice but drink our fucking coffee it's not like I'm competing with anyone #or like they pay us in any way. i get paid for doing the dumb work i have to do not for stroking some dumb ass doctors' egos #they come out of their rooms once an hour to get coffee and we have the cups on the table and i wouldn't even Think of #HANDING them the cups and smiling sweetly at them and asking 'coffee? tea?? :))' #I'll just assume these grown adults will get their stupid coffee or tea when they want some. it's not like they don't know where it is #(and i AM friendly and smile when someone is coming in our direction but why the fuck do you need to get so disgustingly friendly with them #if someone held up a cup asking if i.want some coffee I'd leave immediately even if i came just for coffee. it's creepy) #anyway. she's nice. I'm not. #there's normal people who will get their coffee and maybe ask if the milk in the little jug is cow milk to which I'll happily reply 'yes #:)'. then there's the other people who see the oat milk and make it clear they are the most insufferable people on the planet #(and i pity their patients so much. not much to choose from i guess but if i had that as a doctor I'd happily just die) #like everyone who took oatmilk could do it without making a fuss about the cow milk on the table. the cow milk lovers could never #'the oat milk is in front of the actual milk. this is unacceptable. i hate such healthy bullshit' lol okay #'OAT milk?? I'll leave this to the horses! THANK GOD you have actual milk!' #my favorite was the one who really took personal offense with its sheer presence. as if it had killed half of his patients lmao #'we had 50 patients with xyz problem. ALL of them drink oat milk. they cannot see the connection. it's really unhealthy' #at this point i just said i didn't care and stopped paying attention and he started complaining to his doctor colleague about how #oat milk is advertised to be healthy and how it's actually the opposite and i just find that very funny compared to the first comment #from that one guy who doesn't like such healthy bullshit. you guys need to find a consensus on the oatmilk issue i think. no one takes you #seriously if you contradict yourself like this. also i couldn't care less about the healthiness of the milk alternative of my choice. bitch. #next week I'll end up killing someone. i hope they all die from their cow milk. (but not the ones who took cow milk and didn't say anything #about the oat milk. they can continue living as they didn't annoy me) #void screams #some of these doctors were actually quite nice (most of them even). one even brought an applicant to us telling her to get some coffee #(which we are not allowed to give to applicants. but i don't care. I'd rather they get something than some of the asshole jury members #who hate oat milk (which is not the issue. the issue is them making it everybody else's issue that they don't like oat milk))

[revvywevvy]

yknow i've mentioned before that chelly is very capable of being violent and explosive. however the most ever angry i've ever drawn her is mildly upset. plus there was the memey-ish thing with chelly literally begging chip to let her bite maim kill people for him.

i kinda wanna draw chelly completely snapping. chelly getting a little too silly.

#cell screams #cw vent #//<- just incase lol #//fun fact that horse toon ive mentioned a few times? sam bucus? yeah he's based on my actual childhood bully #//this might start looking like a vent from here-on and will get violent so little warning if you keep reading these tags #//but yeah since my actual bully ruined my childhood and social development and never apologized i feel a lot of hatred as u can see. #//and since actually getting revenge on the real guy is both illegal and a total waste of my time im just going to take out said rage #//on the toon version of said guy. is that deranged? maybe. at least im self aware about it idk lol #//i am very close to just drawing chelly killing bucus or something idfk. #//but i am not wasting time trying to hunt down some asshole brat who definitely played a big part in me being so fucked up today #//bc like. he had a chance to apologize senior year. then when a friend told him to apologize he fuckin vanishes into thin air never to be #//seen again until graduation night. so in my opinion i think he didnt regret anything and wasnt sorry. #//which sucks bc in my traumatized rage i definitely said some fucked up shit to him too as a kid and would've apologized as well. #//but there was a chance for closure. i tried to find him too to try and get that closure but no. there never will be closure. its over now #//so instead im going to unleash a teeny tiny portion of my bottled up decades long rage and hatred #//on an anthropomorphic purple horse. :) #//besides sam bucus did more fucked up things to chelly than my irl bully since bucus is a culmination of EVERYTHING thats #//fucked me up in life whether it be mental machinations; intrusive thoughts or things that actually happened #//so while perhaps my real bully doesnt deserve death; SAM BUCUS SURE DOES AND HE'S GONNA GET IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #// :) #//sorry for my violent rambling i got it out of my system now thanks for reading my weird bullshit lmao

[nkogneatho]

𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘

—a/n: ngl i cooked. overcooked even, so imagine some of the nastiest shit, this has it all. if i studied this much in my exams i would have a higher CGPA. anyways. hex codes are given. hope you like it.

—cw: dick+pubes+balls+cum analysis (kill me pls), monsterfucking in sukunas, creampie and breeding, never heard phrases from my dicktionary, not proofread plus it's 4 am i am half asleep

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

code: length: #ffe8d6 , tip: #f2aab7

We all know it. King of long dick. okay but no fr he has the longest dick in jjk. but let's get to the details. so size?? a whopping 7 inches. but you know his dick does this thing that when it gets hard, it curves slightly so hey!! maybe the true size is 7.2 or something. about color...his cock has the same color as his normal skin tone but as it approaches to the tip, it falls under a blushing pink gradient. and god his tip is so pink when he's hard, it feels likes all the blood in his body is settling there. his pubes hmm? white bush. he does trim it tho. but c'mon man!! it's gojo satoru we're talking about. he gets off seeing your nose rubbing against his white trim when you deepthroat him. also it's very rare for people to deepthroat him because as i said, longest dick. which is why when you actually manage to take him all the way in, the rare feeling of the throat sucking in has him shooting his translucent load down your throat. how does his cum taste? slightly sweet. duh. he's a sweet tooth and the reason he doesn't get diabetes is because all the sugar goes into his semen.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

code: length: #ad8272 , tip: #875f54

*long inhale* bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock bigfatcock. incase i wasn't clear. he has a BIG FAT FUCKING COCK. he has the cock of our dreams. his size is long and girth is thick asf. length would be about 6.8 or 6.7. well about the girth...3.5 inches. yeah. good luck sucking that in your hole lmao. let's get to the tone. his cock has much darker color than his body. he has one of those milktea brown cocks. and the cockhead is even darker like coffee. oh wait! the cockhead. right. so hear me out. DID YOU KNOW HE HAS A FAT MUSHROOM TIP? the kind that is so thick that it gets lowkey stuck in your hole when he pulls out. my man has to tell you to breathe and relax so he can get it out. about his balls, bitch they're as the same size as big lemons. like you know why he wears those baggy bottoms otherwise everyone would see those nuts easily. they're not even nuts. nuts are dry. his have so much cum inside that if he doesn't shoot his load in you or on you once a day, they'll actually explode. cum taste? i said it before here but incase you're new here, it tastes like if someone put a little lemon and msg in thick and creamy alfredo sauce. bye.

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

code: length: #c99a89 , tip: #fcd7ca

*evil laugh* i am not holding back on him but hear me out. HORSE COCK. have you seen it?? it's like curvy girthy cock. me thinks he has long hair and broad shoulders. and have you seen his hands??? it all sums up. isn't as long as gojo but god that meat is fat as fuck. his size has to be around 6 inches and the girth from a 2d angle is about 2 so i found the pythagorean theorem of his cock which is like 6.324 inches. so his tip starts at like 5.324 inches. about the tone...his dick starts darker—or maybe it's cuz of his pubes—at the base but as it reaches towards the head, it blends into the color of his skin tone. geto likes to clean shave sometimes but you know when he saw you drooling over his happy trail when he came out of the shower with a flimsy towel wrapped around his body, yeah he couldn't get that drooling expression of yours out of his head. so he trims it to the length that wouldn't get in the way and is easy to keep it clean but also enough to make you salivate. his balls are very similar to a fig in shape. aren't really fat but they grow hella tight when he is close to cumming. the taste of his cum is sour. i am telling you. like not too sour but it sorta has the acidic taste to it. but nonetheless it tastes good on your tongue. on his too, when he kisses you after shooting a load in your mouth

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

code: length: #e8cca9 , tip: #b59267

chooo choo mfs. i am about to go off. dw i won't slander him, he has already suffered enough. #justicefornanami but anyways back with my girthy cock agenda. now listen. he is not long. i mean he has an average size but the girth??? sheesh! that makes up for it. his length has to be like 5.8 or max to max 6 though gotta love that 4 inches girth, big fat meat, exceeeding half the size of his length. now if you don't understand this concept in numericals, let me indulge you in a scenario that might help. imagine him coming home frustrated from work and all he needs is a warm shower. but there you are all slutty in your outfit and all he wants to do is blow your back out. so he gets hard...like really hard. and it's so painful for his cock to stay put under all those layers of cloth that if he doesn't free it, it will tear it's fat way out. so when he finally decides to unbuckle the belt, pull his undies down with the waistband, his cock jumps out and slaps against his shaved pelvis. so loud that you can hear it over the noise of the tv. now you get it? no? okay hear this one. when he wears an underwear coming fresh out of the shower, his dick takes up about the area similar to a size of a bowl. about his tip, he has a fat tip bruh. not too fat because the base is much thick but yeah. now time for the taste, mixture of citrusy and salty. like when he cums in your tongue it has that salty flavor but the after taste is sweeter and falls more of the citrusy side. maybe like a tangerine. wow i really went off. apologies everyone.

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

code: base: #805149 , length: #f5d7c6 , tip: #edc8bb

i am in my monsterfucking era so this is gonna be monster kuna. so we all know four arms, two dicks yada yada yada but did you know sukuna has a special ability?? like we all know he can summon his mouth anywhere but did you know he can summon his dick too? anywhere on his body. he does this thing where if you act too bratty, he'd throw his palm your mouth and you'd think he's just blocking your voice but this mf pops out a whole ass 8 inch monster cock in your mouth that has you gagging and choking, eyes rolling back. *728 dead. 263 injured* there's no size for kuna since he can adjust the size but if we're talking tones, the base of his cocks (wow. plural. would you look at that) have reddish undertone. like tomato red but the actual dickbod has like peachy pink color. his cockhead is long and kinda blends into the length. his cum tastes bitter and sour. not repellent but the taste is still strong. don't underestimate this man though. he'll rip your holes apart yet have you begging him for more. that's what simply is the power of the king of curses. he has you compelled. but i gotta give it to sukuna fuckers. y'all have some of the strongest pussy/ass.

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

code: length: #f2e7c4 , tip: #d6b596

chosito's cock represents a shampoo bottle. now you might ask which one. the retail shampoo bottle that you use as your mic in the shower. he has a pretty and perfect dick. his girth is thick enough for you to wrap your fingers around you and his length enough to fill you up. whenever you stroke his cock, you can't stop looking at it. it just fits right. like it was made for you. so perfect. his size falls under 5.6 to 5.9 inches and the girth is 2.5 inches, so it's like a good ratio. he has an olive undertone and a darker mushroom tip. his pubes aren't trimmed but he keeps them extra clean. you know it because whenever you give him a blowjob and you take him all the way in, there is a floral smell lingering around the area. he doesn't naturally sweat a lot plus he has a very bouncy skin with slightly soft texture so his cock is always pleasant to suck. choso also has very visible veins. and when i mean very...i mean very. like i mentioned his skin has a soft texture so the skin on his length is flimsy and kinda see through. so when you are settled between his legs, stroking him, your eyes are so indulged in watching the blood rush through them and when he cums, his veins start slightly moving and his balls tightens. Oh! Balls. can i say it?? okay i'll say it. Breeder balls. i told you he has a 5.6 inch cock, y'all would have been disappointed. but see the creator of this universe took a few mass off his dick only for it to be filled in them breeder balls. which is why, he cums a lot. when he shoots a load, he almost gives you a facial. his cum is sweet with a metallic taste. but hey! it's a pleasure to swallow his cum. but you know why i compared his cock to a shampoo bottle? it because when he is so horny and hard and you give his base a few big squeezes, he'll spurt out a thick load of cum like your shampoo.

Tags: @bluberrimuffintop @anxious-chick @yuujispinkhair @osamwah @arisaturn @multistan-247 @sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast @mrskokushibo @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi @crescentmoontsuki @dianagracesworld @ariachaos @pu-re-love @trueformsukuna @loyal-to-my-dilf @baizzhu @w0nderbeluga @splatmastr   @vuggevise @makisslut @moonish-en @lufemia @jeanboyjean @marshadowstea @frustrated-kitten @katsukichu @sir-kuroo @aleks-chan @dreadsuitsamus @justiceforquentin @kitashousewife @jiaspoon @sintiva @dawn-bunni @mostlyhornyandsad @dilfslayer3000 @shadowy--night @palebananafury @shutyourwhoremouthbecky @figlia-della-luna @marenalee @aoitoge @lahniu @kayjayxx @seraphinaivy @megumistoehair

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #toji x reader #toji smut #geto x reader #geto smut #nanami x reader #nanami smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #choso x reader #choso smut #gojo satoru x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #nanami kento x reader #kamo choso x reader

[strangelittlestories]

It is a little known fact that angels cannot step foot in hell.

Note: this does not mean that angels *don’t* enter the burning depths, only that they cannot touch the floor. You see, the fires that rage below are not regular fire. They do not consume fuel and oxygen and spit out heat. Instead, they chew on reality and drink down order, and the flames that lick up at you are made of chaos-filled void.

This is antithetical to the very substance of angels. If it touches them, at *best* the angels will be spat out as they are forcibly reminded that *they don’t go here*.

At medium, they will be unmade.

At worst, they will be *changed*.

You might think they could avoid this by simply flying through the pit, right? Oh, would that it were so simple. Remember the flames that burn up reality? Hell is an alchemical reaction of exploding space and logic and time and souls. You try flying through a place that is not a place, where up and down can hardly agree on which is which for more than an instant.

But there is a way around this. It was originally discovered by the guardian angel Cambiel. You see, under Cambiel’s protection was a woman named Ruth. Ruth was a shining light who Cambiel cared for greatly.

Ruth, in turn, had a woman she cared for very much. And, sadly, a demon had stolen Ruth’s love away from her.

“Do not follow her,” warned Cambiel, “for if you follow your heart through the gates of perdition, I cannot go with you.”

“Sorry, babe,” replied Ruth, “but I am *very* gay and *very* romantic and that has made me reckless.”

And Cambiel nodded sadly, for all of this was true and good.

But as Ruth walked the lonely, tortured path into the underworld, an idea occurred to Cambiel.

Sure, they couldn’t walk or fly into hell, but maybe they could *ride* there.

Now, a fully grown horse could not hope to navigate the depths beneath the world, for their sense of self-preservation was too strong. An adult horse would flee from the screams of imploding souls and the winding geometry of impossibly winding roads.

But a young horse? With a child’s innocence, with bright young eyes, who had not yet been tricked into believing in its mortality?

That was a mount that could bear an angel (who was, after all, light enough to dance on the head of a pin) into the fearful caverns of the beyond. Honestly, the little horse seemed weirdly enthused about the whole thing. 

And so did Cambiel guide a pair of reckless and romantic (and useless) lesbians out of hell.

When the pair thanked the angel, all they said was this:

“Don’t thank me, thank the little horse. It turns out … foals rush in where angels fear to tread.”

#writing #microfiction #flash fiction #short story #feghoot #puns #writeblr #wtwcommunity

[gracieheartspedro]

Who We Are

pairing: fem!reader x dbf!joel miller

description: when your father falls ill, his patrol partner and best friend, joel miller finds a way to aid in his recovery. but this solution is complicated and requires you to take on a week-long hunt for supplies and resources. being stuck on the road with an older guy you've been crushing on for ages won't be so bad, right? wrong. because he's been pining after you, too. and one of you will have to give in evenutally.

word count: 17k words. this one is a LONG ONE. get a snack.

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, post!outbreak joel, age gap (reader is in her 30s, joel is in his mid 50s), i don't describe the reader all that much, consumption of alcohol, illness that requires medical intervention, blood, guns, killing of infected, forced proximity, joel is kinda pervy?, talks of loss of family members, joel lies about his past, oral (f receiving), face sitting, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, dirty talk, creampie, after care.

author's note: ... hi folks! this one is a long one, so like I said, grab a snack and get comfy! I was going to make this multiple parts but I'm eager and unhinged. to be honest, this story is better as one big one shot anyway. I had a very intense time editing so I know I probably missed some things. I may write little branch off stories if you guys enjoy it enough. anyway, enjoy! <3 lemme know what you think!

“Didn’t know you were workin’ tonight, darlin’,” Your father’s Southern drawl brings you out of your daze. You had been cleaning glasses for the last hour and a half. Surprisingly, the Tipsy Bison wasn’t busy on a Wednesday night. You had been keeping busy by cleaning and serving two visitors. 

You look up, noticing your father and his patrol partner wander into the bar. They find a seat at the bar, right in front of you as you dry some whiskey glasses. 

“I work every night this week, Pops,” You mutter, turning back to the liquor bottles to grab his favorite bourbon. You knew exactly what he came here for. He wanted to pester you on your shift and watch you write under his partner’s gaze. He thought your little crush was entertaining. You have made comments to your dad in the past about how you thought Joel was nice to look at and your Dad would just laugh. He would jokingly wiggle his finger at you and tell you to find someone your age. 

Little do you and your father know, Joel feels similarly about you. The first moment he saw you, he thought about how if he was a young buck, he’d lock you down as soon as he could. The age held him back initially, never even entertaining your subtle glances or welcoming smiles. Then when he realized who your father was, he immediately shut down all thoughts like that in his head. You were strictly off-limits.

“Well good, keeps you busy.”

You did not enjoy the idea of working every weeknight with a bunch of drunks, but this job was a bit better than constantly shoveling horse shit. Instead, you got to mingle with the locals. Maybe find yourself a man, since you were in your early thirties and unmarried.

Joel loved coming to the Bison when you were here. It meant he got to drink a whiskey neat and watch you twirl and rush around the bar. Tonight was slower, though, so he got the privilege of speaking with you, which was rare. 

You pour your Dad his bourbon, finally glancing up at his partner who’s practically ogling at you. You made a conscious effort to avoid his piercing brown eyes. 

Joel Miller was a dream boat, god damn. Every time he glanced in your direction, you would freeze up and stutter out a very jumbled “hello”. He was quite guarded, never much to talk. When he did finally speak, you found yourself reeling over his deep voice. 

“Whatcha want, Mr. Miller?”

His lips twinged, his eyes flicking up to yours. He loves hearing you say that, he thinks to himself.  You hand off the bourbon to your Dad, waiting for a response. 

“Whatever he’s having is fine, sweetheart,” He says plainly, nodding toward the half-empty bottle. Your knees could buckle at the nickname, but you keep your composure. You can’t crumble that easily. 

You three slide into a conversation about their patrolling, what they found that day, and the game plan for tomorrow. You make a sly comment about how they needed to find some meaning in life other than patrol. Your dad laughs, and Joel just stares blankly at you. You instantly want to take back the comment and never speak again, ever. Instead, you just continue drying the glasses you just washed. 

When your dad finished his bourbon, you noticed his expression change from relaxed to pained. 

“You okay there?” You ask, grabbing his glass and placing it in the sink below the counter. He rubs his chest, letting out a deep guttural cough. Joel looks perplexed while you get closer and notice the blood splattering into your dad’s palm. 

“It’s nothing, just a cough,” He manages to say, his voice hoarse. You scan his face, knowing immediately that he’s lying.

“Bullshit, you’re coughing up blood,” You reach towards some towels, tossing them on the counter in front of him, “You should probably go get checked out, Dad.”

Joel quips, “Yeah, don’t need you getting sick when we are out tomorrow. Why don’t you stop by the infirmary before you go home?”

Your Dad just shakes his head, “You two are being dramatic. It’s nothing, I promise.”

Your Dad was known for downplaying his pain and sicknesses. You remember being a little girl traveling with him across the country and every time he got hurt, he’d just suck it up. He shattered his left pinky years ago and he resolved to just chop it off. So that’s what he did. He was lucky it never got infected. But he was known just to blow off all his ailments, reminding you he’s beat all the other odds. 

So instead of fighting with him, you just nod all the while, stealing a long glance at Joel. He’s finishing his drink and you can’t help but watch his neck. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and you fixate on it for a bit too long. 

You’re brought out of the trance when he slams the glass down, his dark brown eyes drooping. Joel always looked tired, but you knew after the day they had, he was actually tired. 

You had a couple more hours at the Bison before you had to close up, so you bid them a farewell, reminding your Dad that you’d be home before he stumbles off to bed. He never slept much, he would just read in the living room until you got home usually. 

Joel waves you a farewell, thanking you quietly for the drink. 

“Don’t be a stranger,” You say as he turns his back to you to head for the door. He turns a bit, giving you a slight smirk as he reaches for the door. 

You spend the rest of your shift daydreaming about what it’d be like to be with a man. You spent most of your time in Jackson without giving much of the men your age a thought. More than half were taken, anyway. While you let your mind wander, you realize your imagination is placing Joel in the spot of all the made-up situations with this said man. 

-

You lock the bar door behind you, tugging on it to ensure it’s snug in the latch. The air was shifting, the cool warm summer turning into a slightly chilly fall. You wore a long sleeve today, luckily, or else you’d be shivering on your way home. The walk home wasn’t a long one. 

When you reach your front door, you realize the living room light is on. Dad’s awake.

But as you reach to turn the knob, you hear ghastly breathing from the other side. When you swing the door open, you see your Dad in his recliner, his hand over his chest. He’s dry heaving, trying to get out a cough. 

“Hey, hey,” You quickly race to his side, “Are you okay? What’s happening?”

He breathes in deeply, “I just can’t seem to catch my breath. Something isn’t right.”

You have never seen him so panicked. You nod, understanding that your next step is to get him to the infirmary. He should have gone on his way home. You didn’t know if anyone would be there and you surely didn’t know if they would be able to treat his symptoms. 

“Are you in pain?” You ask, grabbing under his arms to lift him out of his chair. He’s wobbly, so you keep your hand under his armpit and use your other free arm to balance him. He shakes his head. 

“Just weak.”

Your heart sinks. Never in your life has your father admitted to feeling weak or sick. It was like as soon as he got home, his body just gave out. You help him into his shoes and start your trek back towards the middle of town. You wish you didn’t have to walk him so far because it felt like with every 5 feet, his lungs were giving out and sending him into a coughing fit. You probably woke the entire town trudging him through the streets. When you get to the front step of the infirmary, you knock as loud as you can. Usually, they had an overnight shift nurse helping, having them watch over whoever was dragged there during the day. Dispensing medicine if need be. You knew a couple of the nurses, most of them your age or a bit older. 

When a familiar face opens the door, you feel a sense of relief. 

“Hey Sidney,” You greet her, sort of pushing your Dad into the room, still keeping your hands wrapped around his center, “Something’s wrong with Pops.”

She reaches out to help you with him, “Oh no, what’s going on?”

“Can hardly breathe,” Is all he can muster out. You look at Sidney, concern spread across your face. She nods, knowingly. 

Sidney was one of the nurses you trusted the most. She gave you stitches when you sliced your hand open on a glass bottle a couple of weeks ago. She was patient and gentle, always checking to see if you were doing alright as she sewed your skin together. She’s a former Firefly, probably in her 40s. She got trained by some doctors years ago so she knew a decent amount about all sorts of medical treatment. 

She takes hold of the situation completely, grabbing your Dad and walking him to a free bed near the door. She gets him to lie down and she starts scrambling for some supplies to do a quick once over of him. He looks pale and for some reason, very small, in the hospital bed. 

“It’s gonna be alright,” You say, poking his arm. You say it for him, but you mainly say it for yourself. He closes his eyes and nods. 

“Always is, kiddo.”

-

The news was not ideal. After observation and some tests, Sidney decided your father probably has pneumonia. The problem was, that Jackson was low on antibiotics and they would have to decide if your Dad’s case was urgent enough to give him some. 

It pissed you off, but you had to hold back your anger. This situation was out of Sidney’s control, but you knew exactly who to raise your voice to. Sadly, the city council was asleep in their beds, as it was 4 a.m. Sidney reassured you that she would ensure your father was looked after until the morning when they could discuss with everyone if it would be okay to give him some of the highly sought-after antibiotics. 

But for now, you should get some rest. 

Your father fussed at you while he was in and out of sleep, telling you that you needed to go home and sleep. Your body was plagued with exhaustion and your brain was hardly functioning. You would need to plead a good case, so even a couple of hours of sleep would do you good. You ask if you could occupy a bed nearby and Sidney agrees with a sympathetic smile. You curl up, trying to clear your brain of your racing thoughts. 

You can’t lose your father, he’s all you have. 

You need to remind the council of all your father does. 

You need him to get better. 

You need him. 

-

“We only have 4 vials of antibiotics,” Maria states, trying not to look you in the eyes. She feels horrible, but she knows deep down the rest of the council will probably reject your father using any. It was going to be a tough decision like this that made most of the people in the council think they were playing God, but it was real life. Would they give your 60-something-year-old father antibiotics for pneumonia or give it to a young child suffering from an infection? They had to think ahead and supplies were scarce. 

You cross your arms, waiting for the next shoe to drop. “And?”

Tommy stands up, knowing you will not like the next sentence. He practically guards Maria with his broad frame. He resembled Joel, with his dark hair and stern eyes. His were a bit softer. 

“We are low on resources, hun. We need to think ahead and ensure that the pros outweigh the cons of giving him one of those vials. You understand?”

“Why was this not a thought in the summer? When it was a good time to go seek some out? I just don’t under-”

“We had that sickness going around over the summer. Lots of people getting fevers. Before we knew it, Dr. Peters realized we were low. I had intentions to get out and try to find more, and trade with some people, but we just haven’t discussed it all yet. There’s a process. It was in the works.”

Your blood is boiling and your patience running out. Each second of arguing was another second your Dad could be closer to death. 

“Well, it’s a shitty fuckin’ process. Where can I go to get more, then? Is there another community we can trade with? A hospital we can scavenge? You guys can’t expect me to sit around and wait for him to get worse.”

Maria looks to Tommy, trying to wrack her brain for a response. Tommy’s lip twitches, knowing exactly what to say. He did not want you to do it, but he knew how you were. You’d do anything for your family. 

“There’s a hospital in Salt Lake that I’ve heard is practically untouched. Fireflies used to reside there and do tests. They probably left behind some supplies.”

You narrow your eyes, “Salt Lake? Isn’t that a whole week away?” 

You start to pace the room, trying to console yourself. You can’t just leave for that long and assume that everyone will take care of your Dad. Tommy places his hands on his hips, trying to figure out a resolution. He liked your Dad, always going to him if he needed help around the commune. Your Dad is always one to offer a helping hand and give solid advice. He didn’t want to watch him die, either. 

“How about this,” Tommy huffs, “How about we give him one of our vials and you and Joel head out to Salt Lake to scavenge that hospital? If we are right in our assumptions, there’s probably a lot of resources there. And Joel’s been there before.”

“Why are you roping Joel into this?” You press, crossing your arms. 

“Joel knows where to go. He can get you there in one piece.”

“Where am I going,” Joel’s presence takes you by surprise. You turn back at the front door of the infirmary, seeing Joel’s disheveled hair sticking up in every direction. He had red cheeks, probably from the jog he did to get there. As soon as he heard about your father, he booked it from the stables to his side. 

Tommy shoots Joel a knowing look, “You and her are gonna go back to Salt Lake. You think they have antibiotics at that hospital you took Ellie to?”

Joel’s visceral reaction sends you. His heart practically stopped when Tommy brought up the hospital. 

You start to sweat when he does, realizing you would have to travel that far with Joel Miller. 

He swallows, shifting his weight to his other leg. “Probably. Why can’t ya just give him what we have?”

Maria shakes her head at his response, “We have a long winter ahead of us, Joel. We have four vials left. This saves us from a council meeting where they shoot down everything. They won’t approve it. If I reassure them that you are going to get some more, they won’t mind if we give him one.”

He huffs, scratching his chin in contemplation. You knew this would not be ideal for him, but you’re willing to do anything, even if you had to do it alone. The four of you stand in silence while Joel wracks his brain for an excuse to say no. None comes to him. 

It’s not that he did not want to help you, he just does not want to relive some trauma with you by his side. He would have to swallow back all his emotions, all the while you would be posted up right next to him. He does not want you to see him falter under pressure.

“She can’t go alone, Joel,” Tommy quips, gesturing towards you. You were shaking, your body reacting before your brain even could. Your nerves were shot.

He shakes his head, “And if they don’t have the supplies?”

You didn’t even think that far. 

“They will,” Tommy says, matter-of-factly, “It’s our best bet. The Fireflies disbanded, there has to be stuff left behind.”

You don’t know how Tommy knows all this, but he must have good sources to know all these things. Joel nods at him, accepting his response. He looks back at you, trying to figure out how you feel about the proposition by reading your face. 

“Does that work for you?” His deep voice isn’t meant to be intimidating, but you flinch anyway at the question. 

“I don’t have much of a choice. My Dad needs the medicine. If you guys think we can make it there and back in one piece, I’ll do it.”

“We will leave tomorrow morning. In the meantime,” Joel waves over Sidney, who’s still sitting by your sleeping and dazed father, “Give him one of those vials.”

-

Joel sacrificing his time and effort for your father was unfathomable to you. Sure, Joel was a great friend of your Dad’s, but he truly didn’t owe you two anything. It made you enamored with him even more. 

As the day shifted into the evening, you sat by your Dad’s bed and waited for the antibiotics to kick in. His body needed rest, you knew that much because he slept more than he probably ever had in his lifetime. 

He was sweating out a fever, so every so often you’d pat his head with a cold rag. He would mumble a quiet “thank you” and then return to snoring. As the sun sets, you welcome Sidney back for her night shift. She checked your Dad’s vitals, telling you his lungs are already sounding a bit better. You stretch and yawn, cracking every bone in your body while you do. You were stuck in the same position for so long, elbows on your knees, your chin propped up by your hands. 

You had a long trip ahead of you, and you couldn’t lie, you were scared half to death. You did not want to come back and find your father dead. You were also terrified about going back outside of Jackson. You spent most of your last 20 years living in the wild and shitty QZ’s. You were always on edge out there, and then you found Jackson. Ever since then, life has been a little more hopeful. You were able to form relationships and have some simple enjoyment, after all this time. 

Your Dad finally wakes up when you start stirring more. His one eye opens first which makes you crack a smile. 

“Mornin’ Pops,” You joke, grabbing his warm hand, “That antibiotic should start working soon. You’ll be better in no time.”

“Yeah,” He croaks, “But I heard you’re going somewhere.”

You bite your lip, afraid to stress him out. You knew he would worry about you, he always did.  

“Yeah, me and Joel are going to get more supplies. Nothing too drastic,” You lie, brushing your thumb over his scarred knuckles, “You trust Joel enough to take care of me?”

It was the first time he laughed in the last 24 hours, “Course he will. He knows how much you mean to me. If he fucks up, he will get a load of me, that’s for sure.”

His voice was reassuring to hear, especially since he’s joking with you. 

“Okay, I believe you,” You mutter, “We leave tomorrow morning, so I need you to be good and get all the rest you can. I want you up and moving when I get back, you hear me?”

“Roger that, kiddo.”

-

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Your tone is sarcastic and Joel can tell. You did not expect to be stuck with Joel Miller alone for a week, especially outside the walls. 

He clears his throat as he finishes packing up his horse. 

“Mornin’,” He grumbles, patting his horse’s mane, “Let’s get you all set up. You’ll be takin’ your Dad’s horse, Ranger. He is already saddled up, just need to get your stuff on there.”

Luckily, you packed light. You brought a couple of changes of clothes, some food, some camping gear, and of course, your gun. 

Joel helps you tie down your bag and ensures all the straps he just put on are tight enough for you. You just watch him, enjoying how just takes control of the situation. He had the father instinct, always making sure everything would be safe and secure for the girls he loved. Or liked. Whatever.

You thank him, grabbing onto the saddle and flinging yourself up onto the horse. Ranger was truly your favorite horse in all of Jackson. He was the best behaved and the biggest. His mane was long and black and he loved to be brushed. You spent a lot of evenings riding him for fun, just enjoying his company. 

Joel gets on his horse, adjusting how he sits before he takes the reigns and guides you towards the main gates of Jackson. 

“You still sure you’re ready for a run like this?”

He’s giving you a chance to back out. But this was now an obligation. If you didn’t do this, you would indebted to everyone. You would be the person to blame if someone’s loved one died. Not really, but you felt that guilt. 

“Readier than I’ll ever be, Joel.”

-

“How is Ellie doing?”

You were burning to make conversation. You needed to rid your mind of all the anxiety surrounding your own life. Joel was too quiet, it made you feel queasy. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts. You were about 20 miles outside of Jackson, the sun was coming up through the foliage. 

He inhales sharply, “She’s a teenage girl. She’s grumpy.”

You grip onto the reigns of your horse, your body swaying back and forth with the trot. 

“I remember being that young and being constantly annoyed by my Dad’s nagging,” You chuckle, remembering the days of angst, “Are you annoying her, Joel?”

Joel scrunches his face at such allegations. If anything, Ellie was annoying him. 

“Course I’m not! Just… want to make sure she’s doing good. Which she is. Everyone tells me ‘bout how helpful she is.”

You think back to the last interaction you had with Ellie. She had been helping out at the stables when you were in charge of feeding and cleaning the horses before you got the job at the Tipsy Bison. Ellie wanted to know everything you knew, pestering you with silly questions like what their names were and why they were named what they were. 

“She’s very helpful,” You acknowledge, thinking about how enthusiastic she always was about learning, “You raised her right.”

He huffs, “Was hardly me. She’s just smart and raised herself.”

You did not quite understand the history between Joel and Ellie, but you knew Joel was not her biological father. You had no clue how they found each other or when. But you could see the love Joel had for Ellie. You remember him lighting up when he explained to you and your dad how she was the best shot amongst the recruits. 

Joel will probably never indulge you in the specifics of his relationship with Ellie, simply because it’s complicated. He never felt the need to explain himself to anyone but Tommy. 

“You had a hand in some of it, Joel. Give yourself a little credit.”

But Joel was never good at that. He was hard on himself, weary to accredit any of Ellie’s behavior to himself. 

The rest of the ride was occupied with the sound of leaves rustling. Joel spots a fallen tree that he says would be a good eating spot. You agree, hopping down off your horse with ease. You tie his reins up on a nearby branch and start digging through your saddle bag for the apple you packed for yourself. You were sick with unease all day. With everything going on in your life, the last thing on your mind was hunger. Plus, you were alone with a man that you had to put all your trust in. 

You pop a squat on the chipping bark and get out your pocket knife to start cutting the red fruit. Joel gets out a bag of jerky from his pack and finds a spot next to you. He looks over at you, perplexed at your food choice. 

“Just some fruit?” Joel interrogates, instantly knowing your hunger cannot be satiated by apples. No one can be satisfied with only fruit. 

Your stomach churns at your first bite, “Just not that hungry.”

That’s all the explanation he needs. You watch as he starts to munch on his bagged meat, cringing at the sound of his mouth. You try to block it out, but it’s eating away at your brain. You hated the sound of chewing, it was such a stupid pet peeve, but you couldn’t help yourself. Joel is oblivious, probably not even hearing how loud he’s being. You smack his arm out of instinct, something you did to your dad when he was being too obnoxious. 

He looks down at you with furrowed brows and annoyed eyes. 

“You’re eating too loud,” You say, wanting to smack yourself at how stupid it sounds out loud. 

He looks away, completely flabbergasted at the reaction. “Eating too loud? Really?”

You feel embarrassed for letting your brain get the best of you. So you just cut more of your apple off and slowly crunch on it. You try your best not to hyper-fixate on your chewing. When you’re in a trance, lost in your thoughts, Joel nudges you back. He’s getting you back, now. 

“Now you’re chewing too loud,” He jokes, popping another piece of his jerky in his mouth, “Should probably keep it down. So loud you may attract some infected.”

You can’t help but smile at his stupid rebuttal. You give him props for making you feel less foolish. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, eating another slice intentionally loud, “Can’t help myself. They are just so crunchy.”

You hear him giggle, his smile easing your churning stomach. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll forgive you this one time.”

-

You knew the ride to this hospital would be long, but you didn’t realize how barren the landscape would be. You also didn’t realize how bad your ass would hurt. You and Joel finally pull off into some woods when the sun starts to set. Joel acts like he knows exactly how to navigate the woods, guiding his horse deeper and deeper. In between some large trees, you spot a lake. 

“Wanna go swimming?” You question after hours of no conversation. He glances back at you with a sly smirk on his face. When you look to your right, you notice a small path. Joel clicks his tongue for his horse to follow it. You two trot through the leaves, before coming upon a small decrepted cabin.

“This is us,” He states as he halts his horse. 

He had secretly always pictured taking you out here. He could not help but insert you into his small fantasies. Some nights he would imagine what it would be like to have you stick by his side forever. He always felt guilty afterward. 

You look at the building in wonder, completely speechless. You assumed you would be camping on the forest floor, not in an intimate cabin by a lake. You swing your leg over and slide off your saddle. Joel starts to tie up his horse nearby and you follow suit. You continue to look at the cabin, curious as to who kept up with it. It looked well maintained, besides some cobwebs at the peak of the roof. 

“Is this yours?”

He shakes his head, “No. Technically Tommy’s. He goes this way to get to another settlement about 50 miles south. He found this place on a whim and cleaned it up.”

You look around the area, seeing there’s even a fire pit right by the water. It had chairs and stones to outline the charred wood. You could not help but imagine what this place was before Tommy found it. How many fun nights were probably spent here by the original owner? If you had no one to go back to, you would just live here. But the more you think about that scenario, you think about how lonely you would probably get. Maybe if you had someone to stay with you. 

You finally look back at Joel. He’s standing on the stone path with his eyes locked on you. You get self-conscious for a moment, realizing he probably noticed how entranced you were with the surroundings. 

That’s exactly what he was thinking, too. How beautiful you stood in the shadows of the trees, your eyes curiously glancing around like a kid in a candy shop. You had him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it. 

“You good if we stay here overnight? Get back on the road tomorrow?”

How could you ever say no to an offer like that? 

You nod, swallowing back your insecurity, “Yeah, for sure.”

-

Joel could build a good fire. Watching him gather all the wood and place them into a perfect formation. As soon as he lights it, it builds and builds. When the warmth envelopes you, you start to finally feel at ease. Joel sits down with a stick, nudging the fire every so often.

He felt guilty. He felt like he was betraying your father, a man who was trusting him with his daughter. He should not be imagining how a little life in the woods would look like with you. He should not be picturing how beautiful you would look underneath him. He should not be having these devious thoughts about you. His eyes are trained on the flames as they build, trying to push those daydreams away. 

When his sleeve lifts as he toys with the charred wood, you notice the watch on his wrist. It looks ancient, the face of it shattered. You don’t realize you’re staring at it until he snatches his hand away from your view. 

“Sorry,” You retract, sitting further into the chair, “Your watch is broken.”

He places the stick next to his foot, finally out of his head for a moment, “Yeah, I’m aware.”

You were so stupid. You know not to pry further, knowing there’s probably a story and you don’t feel like you’re at a stage with Joel Miller to dive deeper. He notices how small you making yourself, and it makes him feel bad. He never wants to make you insecure. 

“Your necklace,” He starts, trying to place your mind somewhere else. It was a feature on your body that he noticed ages ago, but he never tried to beg the question, so this seemed like a great time to move the subject along. “Is it a moon?”

You reach up to your throat, feeling for the necklace you never took off. It feels like he almost wants to see if you will spill your story first. He is bad at reading women, sometimes. Most of the time. 

“Yeah, it was my sister’s.”

He feels stupid, instantaneously. As soon as those words fell from your lips, he put his face in his hands. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Your feelings towards what happened 20 years ago were drastically different than how you feel now. You could still feel the horror and the pain you felt, but it wasn’t so gut-wrenching anymore. It honestly doesn’t even feel like it happened to you. 

You drop the crescent moon charm from your hands, “No, it’s okay. She died on outbreak day. She was a bit older than me, her name was Reagan.”

He looks up at you and just nods, taking in the information. You don’t know if it’s a gesture for you to continue to talk, but you take it as just that. 

“Her and my mom were at one of her soccer games when all hell broke loose. From what I heard, she was bit by one of her teammates and when me and my Dad were packing up our things to get out of there, I grabbed some of her stuff. A necklace, a sweatshirt, and her favorite pair of sneakers. I don’t know why. But yeah, this necklace is the only thing that survived 20 years. Sweatshirt got too small, shoes got too torn up.”

You don’t even notice the tears pricking in your eyes until you blink. You don’t even remember what she looks like, her face is kind of jumbled in your memory. You remember her hair though, long and brown and super curly. Joel just listens, his eyes trained on your hands as you nervously rub them together. When you peer up at him, you see the mutual pain written on his face. 

He thinks to his beautiful Sarah. His eyes fall to his broken watch. The pain is still very palpable. 

“‘m glad we have somethin’ from our people. Somethin’ to remember them by, ya’ know?”

You scan his broken watch and nod timidly. “Yeah, something to remember them by.”

-

You stand up after eating some more food you packed, ensuring you’re somewhat nourished before you go to sleep. Joel stares at the fire, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He knows he has to sleep, but he knows you need it more. He’s willing to give up his hours for yours. 

“You want me to do first watch?” You quiz, hoping to get the answer no. Instead, he just shrugs. You cross your arms, a cool shiver going down your back as you step away from the fire. 

“I’ll start first,” He mumbles, grabbing his poking stick, “There’s a bed in there all ready for you. Get some rest, we got a long day tomorrow.”

You respond with a slight wag of your head, “Okay, goodnight, Joel.”

You turn on your heels and head towards the front door of the cabin. You creak the door open. It’s pitch black so you step back onto the small porch to grab the lantern Joel lit a while ago. You slowly creep through the one-room cabin, placing the lantern on the small table by the door. It lit up most of the room so you got a great look at the wooden framed bed, waiting for you to lay upon it. 

You feel a pang of guilt making Joel sit outside to guard you as you slept. You knew you needed rest. You also knew it would start getting colder and colder and that fire would die eventually. 

Joel could handle himself, after all. You would just have to push your worry aside. When you curl up onto the hard mattress, you think back to the last time you were left to trust another man to look after you as you slept. It was a traumatizing night, so instead of worrying yourself, you close your eyes and remind yourself that Joel is safe. Dad trusts Joel. Joel is a good man. 

Sleep eventually takes over, your soft snores rattling off the wooden walls. 

After a couple of hours, the shivering takes over Joel’s body, so he creeps into the cabin. The lantern is dimmer, slowly running out of fuel. He shakes his head, smiling to himself at your disregard for resources. He walks over to the small wood-burning oven, opening the door to it as quietly as he can. You don’t even stir. You’re a deep sleeper, he would remember. 

He starts a fire with the old coals, warming up the small space. Once he stands up from his squat, he hisses at the crack of his knees. He glances over at you, making sure he did not wake you. Nothing. 

You were a peaceful sleeper, your mouth slightly ajar. To Joel, you were always so beautiful. Not even just your looks, but your kind and reserved nature. You always gave him a delighted smile when he looked your way. You were dedicated to always being there for your father, which would always melt his cold heart. He would always watch you with a careful eye, praying that you would somehow get older or him, younger. He hated himself for admiring you so often, especially since he respected your father so much. But you were right there. 

He sat himself in the old recliner chair near the door, peaking out the window every so often. He would always find himself training his eyes back on you, watching your chest rise and fall slowly. 

It takes everything in him not to curl up next to you. 

-

The second day starts off a bit rough. 

When you wake up in the early morning hours, you take notice of a sleeping Joel in the corner of the room. You spring up, loudly rattling the bed frame. It sends Joel jumping out of his skin, his eyes flying open to look at you.

You are panting like you just ran a mile. 

“Jesus Christ, girl,” He barks, his tone tired but also vicious, “Thought someone had you at gunpoint.”

“You were sleeping!”

“Shit, yeah I was, wasn’t I?” His tone is more relaxed, sort of annoyed. He rubs his eyes, glancing outside. Your horses were still there and it doesn’t seem like you guys have been ransacked. 

You clench your fists, “You’re lucky we didn’t get shot in our sleep or something.”

He rolls his eyes, slowly rising from the chair he took over, “That’s a little dramatic, sweetheart. We are fine.”

After that comment, you did not want to talk to Joel Miller. 

You also start to question if you can trust him. He should’ve woken you up to take charge of the watch, but instead, he ignorantly fell asleep and risked your life. 

When you pack up to leave, he realizes how rattled you are. He wants to apologize, but he’s too stubborn to do so. You were being dramatic. But he shouldn’t have said that. He should’ve kept that comment to himself. He was never really good at holding his tongue, always saying the first thing on his mind. 

-

When the sun sets on the second day, Joel promises you two should be in Salt Lake the next afternoon. The whole day pretty much consisted of you two bickering about state capitals. He swears the capital of Pennsylvania is Philadelphia. 

“It’s not, it’s Harrisburg,” You would say. 

You also talked about times before the Infection. He mentions his daughter, Sarah, telling you about how she used to play soccer and she loved going to the Texas State Fair. It makes your heart happy to hear him light up about her, but it makes you want to cry hearing a father talk about his dead child. You can’t imagine that type of pain, and you hope you never do. He doesn’t even know why he’s suddenly baring his soul to you, but he starts to feel like his walls are falling away and he’s comfortable around you. 

He tells you about how he plays the guitar, which you lock onto quickly. 

“You’ll have to show me how good you are,” You smile, imagining Joel Miller strumming along to some folksy song you request. He can only imagine what type of music you would want to hear from him. 

“When we get home,” He mutters, “I'll give you a performance.”

“I cannot wait.”

The conversation with you was easy. You could get anything out of him, pretty much. You were a lot like your father, but softer. He enjoyed your company a bit more. Your laugh was infectious and you were a lot easier on the eyes, of course. When you two stop for a break, he watches as you look for four-leaf clovers on the forest floor. When you find one, you pick it up and bring it over to his hunched-down frame. 

“My mom used to say they were for love and luck,” You explain, “Think you need it for both.”

He knew you were joking by the way you giggle and return to your spot on the ground. He just shakes his head and sticks the clover in his jacket pocket. 

-

He was dreading being back in Salt Lake. He doesn’t want to relive that day when Ellie was practically ripped from him. It sent him spiraling just thinking about all the outcomes that could’ve transpired that day. 

He contemplates telling you for a few brief seconds. 

He wouldn’t have much to lose, especially now that everything is said and done. But then fear takes over and he wonders, would you judge him for it?

He imagines how you would react. How your nose would probably scrunch up, how your disposition towards him would soon contort into horror. You would probably call him a monster. You would probably never look at him the same way, with that beautiful smile and attentive gaze.

“You okay, Joel?”

You two were positioned on the edge of some woods off a dirt road. Joel didn’t want to attract anyone with fire, so you two decided you would just camp on the ground near the highway you would end up following to get into the city. 

“‘M all good,” He practically whispers, “Just tired. You mind gettin’ first watch?”

You just silently nod, watching him rise from his spot and move over to the sleeping bags you two had set up when you arrived. You watch as he awkwardly wiggles his large frame into a small sack. It makes you giggle a bit. He positions himself with his back to you, his front facing into the woods. He can’t spend his time staring at you like he would like to, he needs to sleep. 

You realize he has a leaf stuck on the back of his head. You couldn’t help yourself, it was going to bother you for as long as you were awake. You stand up and slowly creep up to him. 

You squat down and pluck the leaf out of his thick curls. His head snatches back at you, knitting his brows together in confusion. 

Secretly deep down, you just wanted to find a reason to touch him. 

“Can I help you?”

You give him a shit-eating grin, “Yeah, you just got leaves in your hair. It was going to bother me if I didn’t get it out. You’re very, very welcome.”

He rolls his eyes, “Can I sleep now?”

“Don’t know, I’m already getting bored without you glaring at me.”

You were now on a mission to annoy him, he guesses. 

Without thinking, he responds with a comment that would stick with you all night. 

“Yeah, you like it when I look at you, don’t ya?”

-

The homestretch was only about another 20 miles. You and Joel had made good time, only taking about three days to get to the hospital. After the subtle flirting with Joel the night before, you got a little more ambitious with your advances. 

Before you two took off to get to your destination, you asked Joel if you could change your clothes. You had mud all over your jeans and your shirt was reeking of body odor. The natural deodorants that were handmade in Jackson only did so much. 

“Yeah, make it quick,” He orders, pointing to a more private area of the camp, “There’s some bushes over there.”

“I’m not getting dressed in a bush, Joel. Just look away,” You test, already shrugging off your flannel. He notices your bold move, instantly peeling his eyes away from your direction. This can not be happening to him right now. 

“What the hell,” He murmurs, his hands propped up on his hips, “You’re doin’ this on purpose.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, “Doing what on purpose?”

“Testin’ me. Me and my patience.”

You throw your shirt over your head and grab one of your spare ones from your pack, “Well, if it’s a test, you’re passing with flying colors, Miller.”

He glances back at you without even really thinking, spotting you in your bra with a shirt covering your eyes. It’s almost like when you tell a child not to press a button, and it makes them want to do it even more.

He wanted to keep looking. 

“Fuck,” He says under his breath, trying to push those types of thoughts out of his mind. 

You shimmy off your pants, folding them as soon as you get them off your legs. You needed a shower so bad, you felt so filthy. 

“You think we could stop back at the cabin on the way home? I want to bathe.”

Thinking about you naked and taking a bath made his dick hard. 

“Yes,” He manages to say, “Hurry up, please!”

You grin at his frustration, “Fine, fine. I’m almost done.”

-

You and Joel trot along an abandoned highway, cars littering every lane. It was nothing new to you. You have seen plenty of cities in your lifetime. Each time was a bit different, but for the most part, they were all the same. Riddled with infected and bombed to shit. 

You think back to when Tommy said Joel had been here before. Your mind starts to wonder, and being that you still had a couple of hours before you got to see the actual hospital, you decide to speak up and ask. 

“When was the last time you were here?”

He thinks for a second. He was waiting for these questions. 

“Over a year ago.”

You shake your head, “Was there a reason?”

You had no business prying into Joel’s life, but you felt like after spending days with him, there was some kinship. Maybe even a friendship.

“Ellie’s mom was a Firefly. They had a base camp out here,” He explains, but would he go further? Would he spill all the beans?

It’s technically not his story to tell. But then again, Ellie didn’t even have the truth, so it was a story only he knew. 

You wait before responding, “Did you find her?”

“Who?”

“Ellie’s mom,” You press, glancing around some cars. You are trying to act like you didn’t care, but you could tell from the moment you entered the outskirts of the city, Joel was plagued with the weight of the atmosphere. His shoulders got heavier, his eyebrows further knitted together. He was tense. 

“No, she’s dead. So I brought her home,” He says, half-bending the truth. He’s lying, but not really. Ellie’s mom was dead but that was never the reason they came out here. He just wants to say it, but his chest feels like a weight is pushing down, almost cracking his ribs. He swallowed the guilt. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

You didn’t have much else to say, letting the silence eat away at the prickle of your arm hairs as they stood up. You try to relax, but now that you are in the city, it feels real. You traveled all this way for medication so Jackson would not shun you. It sounded kind of stupid, coming all this way in hopes of a stocked Firefly hospital. 

You also traveled all this way with Joel Miller. You managed to speak to him without tripping over every word and poking fun at him. You watched him sleep at night, looking so peaceful in the woods surrounding him. You try to think about the last time you saw him smile. You saw him differently, now. He came all this way to help you and your dad. He is risking a lot, disregarding his duties back home, just so he can be with you and protect you. 

You ponder if things will be different when you get home. Maybe he would talk to you more when he came to the Tipsy Bison. Maybe he would wave back at you when you saw him around town. 

You secretly hoped being next to him for so long would change your relationship with him. 

Joel starts to ride next to you, studying your face as you stare forward. 

“What are you thinkin’ bout so hard over there?” He poses, watching your face twist when he speaks up. 

You lick your lips, “Thinking about what it’s gonna be like when I get home.”

“What do ya’ mean?”

You halt your horse to look over at him. He does the same. 

“We came all this way and I am scared when we get back, you won’t want to talk to me anymore.”

He shakes his head, a slight chuckle escaping his lips, “Kiddo, your dad’s my patrol partner. ‘Course, I’ll still talk to you. You’re always around.”

The nickname makes you cringe. You don’t want to be a kid to him. 

“Right, of course.”

-

When you get to the edge of the city, Joel starts explaining the game plan. How you will get to the hospital, do your sweep as quick as you can, and don’t meander around. He also explains how the exit plan is to drop everything, no matter what, and return to the horses. You see someone? Run. 

You want to say you know how to handle yourself, but you resist and just nod in understanding. 

To your surprise, you two do not run into any hoards. You turn a corner and spot a couple of infected twitching near an old school, and you two carefully back up and go up another block to avoid them altogether. You two don’t say anything to each other as you spot the hospital in the distance. Joel just points forward, having you trot at his side. 

You pull out your gun when you start to hear some clicking nearby. Joel gestures to you to be quiet and continues to the front of the hospital. You two ride your horses to the ambulance drop-off, parking them there. When you jump down, you start to grab your pack so you can fill it with whatever supplies you find. Joel does the same, throwing his leather backpack over his shoulder. You check the magazine of your gun and take off the safety. 

“Okay, we stay close to each other,” He explains in a hushed tone, “Grab whatever you think we need.”

You wiggle your head in agreement. He raises his rifle as you two enter the side door. The hospital is quiet besides the wind blowing through some shattered windows. You click on your flashlight that is attached to your backpack, making sure it’s pointed forward. The main corridor leads you down to some triage rooms and nurse's stations. Joel gestures to you to check out some triage rooms. You find some bandages and some tongue presses. You grab the entire box of bandages and stuff them in your bag. When you return to the hall, Joel is stuffing some of his finds in his pack. 

“No meds yet,” He grumbles. You two press forward, keeping your steps silent. You find some lab rooms off the main hallway and you two scope out each room carefully, your guns still drawn and at the ready. You find more items; some gloves, masks, and some scissors. You pick them up, stuffing them in your back. 

You hear movement from behind you and quickly spin. It’s just Joel, holding a couple of vials of medication. You rush towards him, using your light to see what the vials read. 

levofloxacin 

amoxicillin

“Jackpot,” You murmur, “Any more?”

He grabs a baggie sitting on a table nearby, “Not that I saw.”

You continue searching, not finding much of anything in the drawers. A lot of the stuff is picked through. 

You point to a central staircase, “Wanna go up?”

“Yeah, right behind you.”

Joel was reeling, spotting some areas where blood was splattered across the walls as he walked through the hospital. It was terrifying to put himself back in this exact spot. It felt like a fever dream. Now he had you with him, another person he cared too much about to admit to anybody, let alone himself. He cared about you in a whole different way than he cared about Ellie. 

You trail up the stairs, finding some old labs and nurse's stations. All were picked through. You couldn’t help but notice the blood all over the floor in some areas. You try to figure out what could have transpired here, but you don’t even try to beg the question to Joel. With the look on his face, you are afraid to say much of anything. 

Something bad happened here and he was a witness to it. 

It made you want to hurry up and spare his feelings. Instead of taking careful and methodical steps, you run room to room searching drawers and counters for anything of value. You find some alcohol swabs, safety pins, and some wrist splints. When you get to the last room in the hallway you’re in, you hit the jackpot. It’s a cabinet with some vials. 

You start to quietly read them off to Joel who’s standing on the threshold of the room. 

“Grab them all,” He says, pulling his pack off his shoulder so you can put some into his, “We can find use for ‘em.”

You also find some sutures and unopened syringes. You wish you could get down on your knees and thank whatever god is up there for blessing you with everything. You don’t believe in that though, so instead you excitingly grab Joel’s arm and shake it. 

“Let’s get this all home,” You smile, pressing your fingers harder into his bicep, “Maybe celebrate with something strong from the bar.”

Then you hear it. 

Click. Click. Click. 

Joel grabs your arm back, shoving you behind him. He slings his pack over his shoulder and you do the same. You never had many issues with killing infected, but you did not know what you were dealing with. It was dark and all too quiet for too long. Joel creeps forward, his gun drawn forward to peek out the door. When you do the same, he tucks you back behind him. 

Lining the hallway is about 3 clickers. Your stomach drops as they slowly make their way to the sounds you two made seconds ago. Joel glances back at you, his face very serious and stern. 

You can read the look on his face and being that you dealt with these fuckers before, you know that you need to be silent. He looks back down the hall, spotting an exit in a staircase that’s slightly blocked by one of the clickers. He waves you along as he slowly tiptoes down the hallway. You get closer and closer to the first clicker and your gun is trained right at them as you keep your distance. You can tell by the clothing that it was a woman at one time, the infection growing out of every crevice of her body. 

She clicks and clicks, but does not attack you. You and Joel continue, not making a sound as you shuffle past the next one. But once you get close to the one closest to the door, something snaps and it’s like they all realize exactly all at once. One squeals and the others follow suit. Joel yells for you to run, but you don’t budge, emptying your gun into the closest one. It crumbles to the ground. With that one down, Joel grips your wrist tightly and flings you towards the door. You two rush out as Joel lights up the hallway with gunfire. 

You now know that you’re attracting every infected in a mile radius so time is of the essence. You practically fall down the stairs trying to get to the bottom. Joel does not like how fast you moving, pressing you to run faster. You two sprint down the hallway as two runners come full speed at you from an opposing hallway. You try to shoot but your gun is empty. You scream for Joel to do something and he puts them down expertly. He’s spot on even with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. You find the door you came in from and quickly make your way to Ranger. He seems sort of spooked so you try to gingerly climb up him, grabbing his reigns from the pole you tied him to. Joel is quick to mount his horse. He pulls his horse back, guiding it to head back the way you guys came. 

You follow suit, hearing stirring from all around you as your hair whips in the wind. You are not worrying about the noise you two are making now, galloping down the once-busy streets of Salt Lake City. 

“Don’t stop til’ I say so!” Joel calls out. You can hardly hear with your heartbeat in your ears and the wind against your ear drum. 

You get to the edge of the city after about 20 minutes of dodging left-behind cars and random barriers. You get to the point where the foliage takes over and the infected taper off. You don’t realize it until you start slowing down and your heart gets back to its normal pace, you’re freezing. 

You yell out for Joel, who’s still going quite fast. He halts completely, letting you catch up with his step. 

“We have to stop, I’m freezing.”

You weren’t wearing all your layers and you knew it would be detrimental if you didn’t stop to wrap up before you two continued your journey. Joel nods, trotting off the main part of the road into some woods. 

When you get off your horse, you can feel Joel’s eyes lock onto your vibrating body. 

“Jesus, girl,” He dismounts, wrapping his reigns around a nearby branch, “The wind do you that much damage?”

You can’t help but laugh as you rifle through your pack to find your extra layers. You can remember packing two thermals, but with the way you’re shaking, you can’t even grip onto the clothes to move them around to search. You don’t even realize Joel has come to your side, you only notice when he nudges your side with his three fingers. You move out of his way so he can look, but you can’t help but feel the warmth his gentle touch gives you on your hip. 

He pulls out a thermal, handing it out to you. 

“Just put it over your other long sleeve,” He instructs, digging for another layer for you. You take his advice and throw it over your head. When your head pops through the neck hole, you spot him smirking at you. 

“If you don’t warm up soon, I may have to share my body heat so we can get back on the road,” Joel jokes, watching you pull your hair out of the back of your long sleeve. You didn’t hate the sound of that, truthfully. 

“Guess I will try my best not to warm up then.”

He shakes his head, grabbing onto your other thermal, “You can’t say stuff like that to me, darling.”

“Why not?”

Joel has slipped up a couple of times already, he wasn’t planning on giving in. But the teasing was fun and light-hearted. He knew in his heart it was not going to turn into anything. 

Right?

“Because I don’t think it’s a very good idea for us to talk like that to one another,” He explains, stepping back as you add the other shirt onto your already warming body, “May lead us somewhere we can’t come back from.”

You swallow, “Maybe I’d like that.”

-

It takes you a day and a half to get back to the cabin. Joel promised that you two could spend a whole day there if need be. You two were physically and mentally exhausted. The horses needed rest too, you could tell Ranger was beat. 

When you arrive on the property, Joel makes sure to scope out a radius before you two settle in. Ever since the sly passes you made at him, he’s been more quiet. You can tell he’s deep in thought. Maybe it wasn’t about you, but he had something on his mind. 

You use the fire stove to warm up some water from the lake to give yourself a quick “bath”. You just used an old rag and some bar soap to scrub your limbs, trying to get off all the caked-on dirt. Joel stayed outside by the fire, cooking up some squirrels he was able to trap. You stood in your undergarments, lathering your skin, watching him from the window as he poked at the fire. 

You felt a bit better once you were clean. The growl in your stomach was dull and kind of painful. You needed to eat, so you got your dirty clothes back on and headed outside to prop yourself up next to Joel. 

When you open the cabin door, his head snaps over to you. 

“Howdy, cowboy,” You gleam, walking down to the stump next to him. You couldn’t help but flirt now. It was funny to watch him squirm, the glint in his eyes not hard to notice. 

“You all clean?”

You nod, giving him a cheeky smile. “Yeah, now you go get yourself all cleaned up.”

He grabs his stick poker, “Don’t got any soap.”

“Use mine.”

Joel stops his motion immediately to train his eyes back on you. “You want me to smell like you?”

“Well, I smell delicious, so why not?”

He scans your body with his eyes, “Cause if we get home and your Dad smells your soap on me, he’ll put it bullet between my eyes.”

You know he’s being dramatic, finding any excuse to opt out of using the soap you just used on your body. 

“So, what you’re saying is,” You clear your throat before continuing, “If my dad wasn’t your friend, you’d lather yourself with my soap?”

He contemplates for a moment, “Yeah, and other things.”

Your heart stops beating for a second. Joel can not help but smirk at your reaction. He was playing with fire, literally and figuratively. The tension between you two was so heavy, that you do not think you could even take a deep breath in. 

He stands up from his spot next to you. “Why don’t ya eat, sweet thing? I have to clean myself up, I guess.”

-

Joel can not do this. 

You were his friend’s daughter. Sure you were grown, beautiful, strong-willed, and everything he could want and more but he could not take advantage of you. The only way he felt this way right now was because tensions were so high back in Salt Lake. You two have spent a lot of time together, the hormones… what the fuck is he thinking?

You sit by the fire, your stomach doing back flips as you think about Joel in the cabin, by himself, practically half naked. 

Why were you doing this to yourself?

Your heart is racing faster than it ever has. No clicker, no stranger, nothing has made you this nervous. Your hand reaches for the door handle, but before you can turn it, Joel rips open the door. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You stand there, dumbfounded. “I-I don’t know.”

He’s standing over you, his chest rising faster the more you keep your eyes trained on him. He has a green flannel on, the top couple of buttons undone. You lift your hand to touch the skin peeking through, but he stops your movements before you can make contact. You note the scent of wood burning in the cabin and it’s a lot warmer than you left it. Joel must have started the stove again. 

“We can’t.”

You shake your head, “No, we can’t, can we?”

You two know better. You know better. You know better. 

You are breathing in each other’s spaces. You don’t even want to look him in the eyes. His arm snakes around your midsection, pulling you forward into the cabin. At that moment, you knew that you two didn’t know any better. 

It’s almost like you two silently made the decision. 

“We can’t tell anyone about this, sweet girl,” He whispers, his hands still firmly on your back. You could not resist this temptation anymore. He was right in front of you, wanting you just as badly as you wanted him. 

Your eyes glance up at his dark sultry gaze, “It’s our little secret.”

His hand reaches up, gracing your chin with his touch. When he dips down to meet your height, you finally get bold and extend your hand up and around his neck. Your lips connect and you feel like a million little butterflies explode in your stomach. You had never desired a kiss from anyone as much as you did with Joel. 

He’s eager and impatient, though. He’s not as soft as you imagined for a man who hardly spoke. He just wants to feel you everywhere, all at once. His mouth melts into yours, his tongue exploring every inch of yours. He’s moving you around the room, stumbling over furniture and shoes as he backs you into the large wooden bed frame. 

“So fuckin’ perfect,” He mumbles into your lips as soon as he lifts you up onto the mattress. It catches you by surprise, mainly because you never expected him to manhandle you in this way. He’s hungry for every inch of you. After all these months of secretly pining for him and him not giving you any positive response, you never anticipated something like this happening. Especially at a time like this. 

“Joel,” You whine, pulling him down on top of you as you fall back into the flannel blankets, “I need you everywhere.”

He grins peppering kisses down your neck, “Don’t worry, I will treat you so fuckin’ good. Been wantin’ you for so long.”

It was so filthy and hot. Your dad’s patrol partner, his best friend. Keen to make you feel good? And wanting it for a while? You must be imagining his words because you can’t even comprehend the situation. 

But it’s true. Joel’s secretly been watching you when you’re not looking. When you sling drinks on Friday nights, he watches you from a booth in the corner. Tommy’s caught him a couple of times, smacking him and reminding him that you were off limits. When you came to his house with extra pot pie or soup, he would watch you walk away from his house from his living room window. 

This taboo yearning kept him up at night. But now, he has you alone and he needs a taste. 

He pulls back to look at your face, “Are you sure you want me?”

You can’t help but giggle a bit. 

“Joel, I’ve been wanting you for longer than I would like to admit,” You purse your lips as you bring your hand up to trace his collarbone, “Think about you all the time.”

It was the truth. Your mind was taken up but all his little sly comments. The way he would drop anything to help you or your dad. His beautiful brown eyes didn’t help one bit either.

“My god, girl…Gonna have me cumming in my jeans like a teenager.”

He returns to laying kisses all along your body. It started with wet kisses down your neck, only for it to trail right where your shirt begins, right below your collarbones. You push him back for a moment, taking your shirt off over your head. He watched you carefully, ensuring there was no hesitancy with your actions. He wanted to be absolutely positive that this is what you wanted. 

As soon as you reach for the clasp of your bra, Joel grabs your arms away. 

“Let me,” He mumbles, letting his fingers trace along the seam of the black fabric before using his right hand to undo the back. With him this close to you again, you inhale sharply, catching the scent of your soap. 

“See you took up my offer,” You tease, letting your bra fall down your shoulders, “Did you get clean just for this, Miller?”

He catches a glimpse of you under the bra and his mind goes blank. You notice his change in disposition and decide it’s best to discard every other article of clothing completely. You struggle to get your jeans off, so he helps by practically ripping them off your legs. He can’t help but spot the soak undies attached to your jeans. When you are bare under him, he gawks at you for a moment. 

“A beautiful woman like you,” He shakes his head, biting his lip. He unbuckles his pants before he stands and shoves them down his legs. While he’s making an effort to get as naked as you, you start unbuttoning his flannel. He watches you take your time, thumbing each button slowly. He tilts your head back up, his eyes leering at you for a moment. “And you want someone like me?”

You know he’s probably in his own head, so you feel the need to prove to him, that yes this is what I want. 

You grab onto his neck and pull him back down into a passionate kiss. When you notice him give in, you use all your might to push him sideways and onto his back next to you. You mount his lap immediately, holding him down with your body weight. Your soaked slit trudges over his large hard-on while you dip your head to capture his lips. You feel his hands trail up the sides of your body, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He finds your boobs, palming them with his warm calloused hands. You were extra sensitive so as soon as his fingers find your nipples, you’re moaning into his mouth. 

When your hips jet forward, his tip slides between your pussy lips. The sensation sends him into overdrive, his grip on your waist getting tighter. He’s so fucking big. 

“No foreplay, you just wanna grind your pussy right onto my cock?” His question sends shockwaves through your body and you raise your hips up off his crotch. You kneel over him, anticipating to rotate your pelvis back onto him, but he has other ideas. 

Because Joel has been thinking about what you taste like for too long. He can’t just fuck you. He lays back, all the while, dragging you up to his chest so your pussy is hovering over his pursed lips. 

“Joel, what are you doing?”

You feel his hot breath huff onto your slick center, “I’m gonna devour this beautiful pussy, first. Need to get you warmed up.”

Without any warning, he wraps his arms around your thighs and pushes your center closer to his outstretched tongue. You gasp when he starts to run his tongue up and down your slit. You can’t help but settle around his face, your knees feeling like they may already give out. 

You’ve never sat on someone’s face and watched them eat you out like a starved man. But Joel is precise with his motions, his mouth wrapping around your clit. When he starts to suck, the suction noise makes you whimper and shake. You have only ever cum by your own hand, so when the familiar heat rises in your stomach, you know instantly this is going to be the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. 

Joel is a very easy man to please. He thoroughly enjoys watching women crumble above him, their orgasms surging through their bodies while his tongue is pressed into them. But with you, he wants to drudge it out of you over and over again. You’re so magnetic on top of him, your head thrown back in pleasure. Your hands rest on your shoulders as you grind down on him, your peak teetering the edge. He shimmies his hand in between your thighs and begins to use his fingers in you, just to drive you crazier. He’s fucking up into you with his pointer and middle fingers, managing to latch onto your clit while he does. 

When you tumble into bliss, Joel moans into you, egging on your spasms. You lurch forward, dragging your center off his drenched lips. Your legs are limp as you try to crawl up the bed. Joel rolls over, creeping up the bed with you. You lay on your back, propping yourself up onto some of the pillows. 

“Do you need a break?” He asks, his hands feeling up your bare, still kind of shaking, thighs. You shake your head “yes” and breathe out loudly. Your body is covered in a light sheen, the sweat pooling around your hairline. Joel lets you take a moment, making sure you are completely ready for him. 

When you finally meet his eyes, your stomach fills with butterflies. He’s admiring you from his position, his eyes not finding yours until he’s done checking out your bare chest. You giggle, tugging on his wrists. He takes up your advances, positioning himself above you. He’s caging you in with his tanned strong arms, only allowing you to really move your upper body. You tangle your hands through his messy dark peppered curls, which makes him sigh. He secretly loved it when women felt through his hair. 

“Fuck me,” He groans as he reaches down between you, grabbing ahold of his hard member. You watch as he drags it through your heat, gathering all your wetness before teasing your entrance. 

“Joel, please.”

He smirks, pushing in just his tip, “Please what, baby girl? You want me to give you all of it?”

You are already overstimulated after your last orgasm and you are a bit nervous to imagine what all of it is. You nod, though, because the stretch is already so delicious. 

“Please, Joel, please. I need it,” You whine, knowing how desperate you sound. It’s music to Joel’s ears. 

“Shh, baby,” He eases in further, “I told you I’m gonna treat you real good. Gonna treat this pussy, so fuckin’ good.”

When he’s fully sheathed in you, your nails are digging into his shoulders. When he eases back to pull out some to ensure you can take it, you’re a moaning mess. It only eggs him on, feeling how slick you are and how tight you are around him. 

“That’s right baby, take all of me,” He says as he lifts himself off you. You have nothing to grip onto now, except the sheets that line the queen-sized bed. Joel wants to watch himself slip out of you and go back into you with ease. You love the friction, but you know you need more. 

You don’t know how, but it’s like he reads your mind. He starts to increase his pace, holding onto the back of your thighs as he drills into you. The curvature of his dick hits exactly where no man could ever reach. 

“Oh my god, fuck Joel! Fuck!”

Your words only encourage him to go harder and faster.

“Keep screamin’ my name, baby doll.”

The sweat is dripping down his face with how much effort he’s putting into fucking you. You’re floored at how quickly your orgasm builds again, the sounds of him plowing into you alone sends you into overdrive. 

As soon as you start to vibrate under him, Joel takes that as a great time to start thumbing at your clit. You feel every one of your nerve endings burning with such rapture, that you can’t even say anything. You’re just howling, no coherent words even coming out. Your vision goes white.

The scene is something out of the old pornos Joel used to watch. You’re writhing under him, the orgasm practically sending you cross-eyed. You reach up to anchor yourself down and the only thing you can find to grab is Joel’s forearm. 

“Yes, Joel!”

His hips continue to snap into yours as you squeeze his cock with your gyrating hips. He’s fucking you through it, watching your face contort. Your grip on his arm hurts, but he does not care. It’s unbelievably hot to watch the girl he has adored from afar cumming around him. Over and over. 

The scene is enough to have him chasing down his own high. The feeling of your cunt gripping onto him so tight, while his name is chanted from your lips, the cum practically shoots out of him before he has time to grab his shaft and pull out. He does not empty himself in you though, quickly prying himself out of your weeping hole and spilling out the rest onto your stomach. 

“Shit.”

You don’t even realize what happened, not caring about really anything except for how wonderful and high you feel. Joel tumbles onto his side, half of his body resting on yours. His mouth is close to your ear so he whispers it to you, his voice shaky. 

“I came inside you.”

You lick your lips, trying to regain some saliva in your mouth, “I do not care, Joel.”

He does not prefer that answer, but he accepts it for the time being. You could not feel your face at the moment, you did not have time to worry yourself over Joel cumming inside you. It was not the first time someone did that. 

Joel rolls off the bed, his legs feeling wobbly with his first steps. He’s still half hard and stumbling over to the bowl of water he just used to clean off himself. He grabs a clean rag and soaks it in the soapy water. The least he could do was clean up his mess. 

You watch him trudge over to you, the cum still pooled on your stomach and a bit in your belly button. 

Joel places the warm towel on your lower tummy, wiping up his mess. 

“Thanks,” You manage to say, your post-orgasm haze wearing off a bit. Now you’re just cold and exhausted. You shiver as soon as he removes the towel from your buzzing body. He notes it immediately and grabs the blanket that had been kicked to the floor. He lays it over you, making sure your full nude body is covered by the chilly air. 

“I need to go take a leak, I’ll be right back.”

You try to stay awake. But as soon as he gets some clothes on and heads outside to relieve himself, you’re lulled to sleep by the sounds of the rustling woods that surround the cabin. 

-

When you slowly open your eyes, you instantly notice how dry your mouth is. The itchy fabric of the blanket is tickling your bare limbs as you shift. Joel’s not beside you. 

You sit up, glancing around the cabin. His stuff is still here, but he is not. You keep the scratchy blanket wrapped around you as you plant your bare feet on the wooden floor. As soon as you take your first step forward towards the front door, it slowly swings open. 

Joel stands there, fully clothed, cheeks reddened from the cold outdoors. 

“Mornin’,” He says with a sleepy voice, “Got up early to get the horses fed and saddled up.”

All you remember is him going to pee outside last night, right before you fell asleep. “Did you ever come to bed last night?”

“Yeah, only got a couple of hours of sleep. You took up most of the bed.”

You clear your throat, becoming hyper-aware suddenly that you are very naked under the blanket. Joel tries not to notice your natural sensuality when you wake up. Sleepy eyes, swollen lips, slightly tangled hair. Even if last night never happened, he would be completely enamored by you. 

“Oh, okay,” You mutter, trying to act natural about the fact that you slept with Joel fucking Miller last night. “We all set then?”

He shuts the front door, cutting off any more cold from slipping in. You watch him slowly start to invade your space. He feels pulled towards you, the gravity overcoming every sense he has. He needs to be close to you, touching you, feeling you. 

“Yeah, we are all set.”

Chills run down your spine when his cold hand reaches out and grazes your cheek. You flick your eyelashes towards him, not knowing what to say next. He dips down to your height, kissing your lips carefully. He is nervous you will back away from him, but you don’t. You lean forward into him, the weight of your entire body pressing into him. 

He is the first to pull away, but you swear you could be latched onto him forever. His big brown eyes are lasered in on your eager lips, but in the back of his mind, he knows that you two need to get back home soon. He promised Tommy four days, nothing more. And you needed to get home to your Dad. Fuck. Your Dad. His fuckin’ friend. 

“We have to get home,” Is all he says. 

And then he’s gone. It’s like he blipped out of the room. You blink and the door slams and you are alone again. 

-

You stumble out of the cabin with your backpack on, your eyes adjusting to the sunshine between the falling away leaves. Winter creeps in so quickly in Wyoming, you think to yourself. 

Joel is already posted up on his horse, waiting for you to hurry along and join him. You pet Ranger for a moment before you hop up onto his back. He can’t help but realize how perfect you seemed in the sunlight. Your face hasn’t aged with time like his. It makes sense because you’re so much younger than him. You’ve lived a very full and traumatic life, sure, but you still had a lot more energy to live. He couldn’t picture that you’d want to spend the rest of it with an older guy with maybe 20 more years left in him if you’re lucky. 

The thoughts start to eat away at him as you two make your way through the forest. 

You assume he’s just tired from not getting a lot of sleep, so you just keep your lips sealed until you make it to the main trail back home. 

“So, when we get home,” You break the quietness with your open-ended statement. Joel doesn’t know what you’re insinuating, so he just keeps his head forward. “What happens, then?”

He pulls back his horse's reins to position himself looking directly at you. 

“What do you mean?”

You look at him suspiciously, “Do we tell people?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Joel thinks. 

“Tell them what?”

He has to be messing, right? You think. 

But no, he’s deadly serious. 

“About us,” You remark as Ranger trots a bit closer to Joel. He shakes his head and your heart sinks. He can’t do this, not after you two slept together. 

“There is no us,” He grumbles, unable to look you in the eyes anymore, “We can’t do that. You’re too young.”

If you weren’t on a horse, you would’ve already smacked him. “What the hell, Joel? What if you get in my pants and make me feel special and now we are nothing? Because I’m a little bit younger than you?”

“No, it’s not like that-”

“Well, it seems like it is like that,” You bite the inside of your cheeks, holding back every instinct to burst into tears, “Fuckin’ asshole. I should’ve known better.”

-

When the walls of Jackson come into your line of sight, you could cry with excitement. Your hands were shaking, not only from the cold but the nerves. You had been silent the entire ride back. Your only desire was to get home to your Dad and ignore Joel Miller for the rest of your life. 

You can only hope and pray that your father is on the mend. To keep on track and not let panic take over, you’ve tried to put your mind on other things this whole trip. Most of those things you wish you’d forgotten, already. 

The doors open when you two get close. When the crack is big enough to see through, you spot some familiar faces waiting for you. Tommy, Maria, and even your father. He’s standing up straight, wrapped in layers of jackets and blankets. You tap Ranger with your foot, getting him to speed up. When you reach about 30 feet away, you practically fall off him to get your arms around your father. 

A sense of relief floods your body. A tidal wave of happiness and solace. He’s okay. He’s alive. 

When his scent reaches your nose, it triggers your tear ducts. After years of never having to really worry about him, knowing he can handle himself, you have felt this constant state of uneasiness the last week. 

“My baby is back,” He grumbles into your hair, his arms locking around you, “I knew I could trust that Joel.”

You don’t have time to feel guilt over your actions, you’re just so happy he’s upright. You also don’t want to hear his God-forsaken name from your own Dad. When you pull back to inspect his face, you note the tiredness in his eyes. He looks better, but not his normal. You grab each end of the blanket that’s slowly slipping off his shoulders and bundle him tighter. 

“Let’s get you back in the warm, how ‘bout it?”

You glance back at Joel who just nods, knowingly. You remember that you still have your backpack on, so before you stroll away, you shimmy out of it. Tommy watches you carefully as you hand it off to Joel. 

“Get those meds to the infirmary,” You whisper to no one in particular. Joel studies your face, waiting for you to say something else. You do not. As he grabs your pack, you feel like Maria and Tommy are gawking at you two. Like they know something was left unsaid. 

You two move differently around each other. When you shift one direction, Joel follows suit. 

Joel feels like every eye in Jackson is on him. Tommy’s being the most piercing, watching him like a hawk as he grabs his horse and guides him towards the stables. While you stroll away with Maria and your father, Joel and Tommy bring the horses and supplies to the stables. 

As you walk, you listen to Maria explain your father’s steady recovery. She mentions how Ellie has been keeping a careful eye on him. After she heard you and Joel were going to be gone together, she asked Maria if she could help him somehow. Once your dad got well enough to walk, she got him settled in your house. She’d go over there for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, just to help. It makes your heart swell when you hear your dad say how kind and generous she was, just like you. 

-

Joel starts to unpack your bags from your horse first when he gets the horses parked. 

“Somethin’ happen out there?” Tommy presses, noticing how odd you and Joel moved in front of him, “With her?”

“No, nothin’,” He lies, placing your bags on a table near Ranger. When he lifted the first duffle bag, he got a whiff of you and it made his stomach sink. “We just had a rough spot in the hospital. Clickers and shit. Nothin’ too crazy-”

“Joel, I know when you’re lyin’ to me,” His eyes are shooting daggers now. Joel was too old to be pestered by his little brother. He groans in annoyance but Tommy does not give up, “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do nothin’, Tommy.”

“Bullshit,” He grumbles, grabbing one of your bags, “Want me to ask her?”

“You won’t get anythin’ out of her. She’s mad at me, okay? She is pissed I won’t…”

He feels humiliated, his stomach twisting into knots. He would never intentionally hurt you. He just put his foot in his mouth when he realized how much your actions would change everything for him. He could not just be someone you slept with. He could not just leave it. 

“You won’t what, Joel?”

He bites his lip, not wanting to say it out loud. 

“I won’t let her ruin her life for me.”

Tommy’s eyebrows furrow, not completely understanding what he’s droning on about. 

“What?”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy!” Joel wasn’t anticipating a shake-down when he got home. You two really didn’t help with those looks splattered across your faces when you rolled into Jackson.

“You slept with her, didn’t you?”

Joel shakes his head, peeling his eyes away from Tommy. Joel knew nothing could get past him, so he is practically surrendering. Tommy knew then. 

“You dumbass,” He whispers, getting closer to Joel, “You slept with her when her daddy is your patrol partner? After I told you to stay away?”

Joel clenches his teeth, “I don’t need this right now. I’m gettin’ these meds to the infirmary and then I’m takin’ her stuff to her.”

“Joel-”

“Just fuckin’ drop it, Tommy. I ain’t doin’ this.”

-

Your Dad has a nice setup, thanks to Ellie. She has transformed the downstairs guest room into a wonderful stay, with tons of pillows and bedside service. When you get inside the house, Ellie is there. She stands in the corner of the living room, timidly, as you guide your dad back to his warm bed. Maria and her wait for you to handle getting him back to his bedroom. Even though his recovery has been a steady incline, he’s very weak and exhausted all the time. It’s his body’s reaction to fighting a rough illness, but he made sure to reassure you that Sidney told him it’ll be a couple of weeks before he’s 100% back to normal. 

You get him back in bed, his eyes already drooping to find slumber again. You manage to get his shoes off and help him under his covers. Once his head hits the pillow, you stand by the bed for a minute to ensure he’s actually sleeping. You slip out of the room, and the sudden rush of comfort of being home takes over your senses. To hear the crackling of the fireplace, and the smell of your homemade candles. While you enjoyed every moment spent with Joel, there’s nothing like home. 

For a second there, you thought you had that same feeling being next to him in bed. But maybe you were wrong. 

You walk out to where Maria and Ellie stand. They are mumbling to each other while you kick off your boots by the door. 

“Hey, Ellie,” You catch her attention, her freckled face down turning with concern. You smile, trying to ease her, “Thank you for all you’ve done here. I am glad he had someone like you looking after him.”

She nods, her lips twitching, “It’s no problem at all. I know how much you two mean to Joel and I just wanted to do what I could.”

Hearing his name sinks your heart, “We owe ya one.”

Because you did. No matter what would eventually transpire between you and Joel, you owe him your father’s life. His idea saved him. With how sick he was, Joel’s quick plan was enough to bring him home. Then for Ellie to spend her days looking after him while you two were gone? You were forever indebted to them. Sadly. 

“Well, we should leave you to get settled. Let us know if you need anything at all,” Maria gestures to Ellie towards the front door. Their footsteps trail around you, heading to your front door. Before Ellie can reach for the handle, there’s a knock. You nod your head, letting her know it’s okay to open it. 

Joel stands there, your bags in his hands. 

You honestly just left your belongings for him to deal with. Joel looks down at Ellie, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. She’s not as impressed, initially. 

“Hey kiddo,” Joel acknowledges, before spotting Maria, “Mrs. Miller.”

“We were just heading out,” Maria says, pushing the door wider so she and Ellie can slip by his large frame, “Give the girl her things and let her settle back into her life, huh?”

Joel was already annoyed at the narrowed eyes and judgemental jabs. It’s like everyone somehow knew he fucked up. 

You two watch Maria and Ellie leave, their breaths forming clouds in the cold sharp air. Jackson’s weather changed overnight, you think, remembering how it was more tolerable before you left. 

“Can I come in?” Joel ponders, still holding your backpack and duffle. 

It was cold and while you wanted to slam the door on him, you know you can’t. You move away from the threshold, gesturing for him to come in. His footfalls are heavy and drawn out. You shut the door, waving him towards the living room so your voices don’t carry down the hallway to your father’s newly set up bedroom. 

He places your bags on the couch before he stretches his shoulders in discomfort. Your stuff was not that heavy, but Joel could not help but try to draw your attention. He glances around your living room, taking in some of the artwork and photos that line the walls. Some are old photos of you and your father, in which you don’t really resemble him at all. 

“Back to how things were, huh?” You remark, bitterly. You wanted to attack him with every mean thing plaguing your mind, but you don’t. You were tired from all the travels but you were also tired of the idea of fighting for someone who does not care to fight for you back. You had done that for years with pointless boys. 

The whole walk to your house, Joel’s thoughts were moving a million miles a minute. He did not want you to live your life resenting him. He cared for you deeply, but he did not want you to miss out on all the wonders of life. Joel could not give you kids. He could not give you 40 more years of happiness. He would be an elderly man before you could even reach menopause. He does not want you to regret things when you’re old and gray. 

“I don’t want that. You know damn well I don’t want that.”

You could scream. But you stay even, not giving in to the temptation to just rip him a new one. 

“I don’t know what you want, Joel. One minute you’re kissin’ me and begging to be with me, the next you’re telling me you can’t be with me because I’m too young.”

“Baby-”

“No! Don’t you dare? You had no intention of making this a thing, yet you played into it and got exactly what you wanted. I’m just another notch for you, ain’t I?”

Your hands are clenched, waiting for his delayed response. You are embarrassed and humiliated that you were delusional enough to let Joel toy with every one of your emotions. 

“You know that ain’t true, girl. I just don’t want you to live your life regretting that I was a part of it, okay? You want to spend your days with an old man who can’t give you everything you want? ’m not good for you.”

He can’t let you make this mistake. 

But you’re not easing up. 

“What do you think I want? Kids? A simple life? A picket fence? Joel those are things I wanted when I was living in a world that didn’t have a brain-eating infection that’d turn people into zombies,” You’re huffing and puffing, trying to understand why he thinks he can tell you what you need and want. 

“I spent years of my life wishing I could get those things, but I gave up a long ass time ago. I don’t want those things nearly as much as I want you. I fuckin’ want you, okay?”

You realize you’re not being quiet and your Dad could probably hear every word falling from your lips. He can hear you desperately plead with Joel Miller to be with you. 

Joel is shocked you’re laying all this out. He can’t believe his ears when you say you want him. A man like him being wanted is quite unbelievable, especially by a woman like you. 

You could hear a pin drop with how silent your house is. You fold your arms, trying not to give into the nausea you feel from spilling your soul to him. 

“I just…” He fidgets with his hands for a minute before those puppy eyes glance up at you, “I don’t want to ruin your life.”

You step closer to him, your face inches away from him. You train your eyes on his mouth, unsure how to respond to such blasphemy. 

“I have spent so many days thinking about what it’d be like to live in a world where the Joel Miller would even glance in my direction. I imagined what it’d be like to kiss him,” You’re whispering now, making sure this revelation is for his ears only, “I imagined what it’d be like to have a man who’d treat me well and look… Exactly like you. I have dreamed of you.”

Joel would have never guessed such a statement fall from your lips. 

You breathe out, relieved it’s finally off your chest.

“I just don’t want to leave ya worse than I found ya,” His softness instantly makes you crumble into his arms. He holds you tight, before pulling away to search your face. You teeter forward on your toes, pressing a firm but attentive kiss to his lips. 

When you draw back, “I’m not givin’ you up, Joel.”

The tension is shattered when you hear your Dad yell your name from down the hallway. You snap out of your trance of staring at Joel’s beautiful lips and dart toward the voice. 

“Yeah?”

You open the door and see him, his eyes wide open and focused on the door. 

“Who you talking to out there? Is that Joel?”

Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of every word you just said, scared half to death that your Dad would get out of bed and beat some sense into you. Joel follows you down the dimly lit hallway, but you don’t even hear him, too rattled by your father’s question. 

“Yes, it’s me,” Joel speaks up, coming forward to meet your Dad’s confused expression, “How you feelin’, man?”

“I’m feelin’ like I’m hearing some odd things from down the hall. You two fighting?” His voice is breaking a bit. 

The silence after he asks the question is deafening. You glance over to Joel whose mouth is slightly ajar, unable to move with an answer. You bite the inside of your cheek, wishing you could disappear into the wall nearby. 

Joel cannot lie to his friend. He certainly would never do it with you right beside him. 

“Yeah, you uh, heard us?” He barely manages. 

“Yeah, I sure as hell heard my daughter beggin’ you to take her on, is that true?”

“Dad-“

“My daughter wants to date a man that’s 10 years younger than her own father? Kind of twisted.” He snaps, shoving the blankets off his legs. “But, I am gonna be honest… I expected this.”

You can hardly breathe with the tension in the air. 

“Sorry?”

Joel’s tone is dry, and he’s unable to fully form a coherent thought. 

Your dad coughs before he starts, “Well, I could tell by the way you looked at her that you had a thing for her, Miller. Didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to entertain it.”

“Dad, he’s not dum-“

“And I thought you’d get over this little schoolgirl crush, but I was mistaken, I guess.”

You were used to your Dad’s sarcasm and upfront jabs. You spent a lifetime throwing them back at him, but this time you had nothing to say. You watch as he settles back from obnoxiously tearing off his blankets. 

You fiddle with your fingers, trying not to show your internal anxiety-riddled monologue. He thought you’d get over your crush. He always noticed how Joel looked at you. How did he look at you? How did you never notice?

Joel is spiraling, reverting to his original conclusions. He knew this was a horrible idea. He should have never stepped over the line. He’s a horrible man. You don’t deserve someone as awful as him. 

He smacks his lips, making you and Joel come back down to Earth and out of your heads. 

“Whatever is happenin’ between you two, I probably will never fully understand it. But you are adults, you do whatever makes you happy,” He says with both hands up in surrender, “I am too old to bother with my daughter’s love life. She’s a big girl, I trust her. But Miller, if you hurt her-“

“I’m a dead man.”

Your father laughs which in turn makes you smile crookedly. 

“Just one thing,” He points to you, “I don't want to hear or see anythin’-”

You nod, cutting him off immediately, “Deal.”

Joel catches your eye when he smiles in your peripheral vision. You look over at him, a grin plastered to your face. 

You can’t believe you’re actually going to do this. 

And Joel can’t believe your father somewhat agreed to let it happen. He was sure he would have a gun in his face before he could even mutter a word. But instead, your Dad is receptive to him being with you, which is all you can ask for. 

“Well, get along now, I wanna get back to sleep. You two were keepin’ me up,” Your dad grumbles, readjusting his frail frame to get comfortable in bed. You just nod, pointing at the door for Joel to exit. You follow suit, closing the door behind you tightly, making sure it clicks. Joel stands in the darkness of the hallway, waiting. He is in disbelief. 

You just take one of his hands and bring it to your lips, softly pressing a kiss into his knuckles. 

“Let’s go get cleaned up and take a nap,” You murmur, walking him to the end of the hallway to the bottom of the stairs. He accepts the offer, trailing behind you like a lost puppy. 

You were not sure where this was all going to end up. Neither of you did. But you could not wait to carve the way with him, bringing every last one of your daydreams to life.

THE END

or is it? I have started writing snippets to go along with this story- if you want more, here's the link:

No One Fucks With My Baby

#joel miller fic #joel miller #joel x reader #joel miller x fem reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel last of us smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #post outbreak joel #dbf joel #dbf joel miller #gracieheartspedro #fic: who we are

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

random percy headcanons:

wants to be the photographer friend SO bad and he technically is but like 70% of the pics come out blurry or weird bc there was a monster attack in the middle of them. his instagram is truly so chaotic looking.

literally always has seashells on him someone will ask him for a pencil or spare change and he has to empty all his pockets of shells to find it. drops his backpack and a bunch of shells fall out. kicks his shoes off and sand and shells fly out and his mortal friends are like percy What the Fuck

his eyes glow underwater!! bioluminescent king. no one told him though and he didn't find out until he joined his school's swim team and terrified everyone (he managed to convince them his contacts were having a weird reaction to chlorine lmao)

he really likes art!! he doesn't just pretend to for rachel's sake he genuinely enjoys painting with her. he likes splatter paint, collages and pop art styles the best. one day after splitting some edibles they realized percy could manipulate water colors and went CRAZY with it

will ask to be excused during class and comes back like an hour later with scorch marks all over his face bleeding from one of his ears covered in dust missing three fingernails rips in his jeans and a fat lip and the teacher is like percy what the actual hell were you doing in the bathroom all this time and he's just like uhhhhhh I have ibs

the brand from camp jupiter did unfortunately (for sally) Unlock something in him lmfao he keeps getting shitty little tattoos. usually stick-n-poke but someone's friends cousin's girlfriend's brother has a gun that gets brought to parties every now and then. most of them are sloppy but you can tell what they are HOWEVER he has one that was supposed to be a seal that came out looking like one of those shitty ms paint crying memes. annabeth laughed at him for ten minutes straight when she saw it.

he wanted to dye his hair blue but he was too chicken to bleach his entire head so he just did the tips. his hair is curly though so it looks absolutely ridiculous but he loves it

percy and annabeth get a crusty little yappy white dog in college and he carries it around like a baby lmao

back to his chaotic instagram, he's got so many pics of him like, relaxing at the bottom of the mariana trench or hugging a giant squid or riding on a whale shark and his mortal friends all think he's just really good at photoshop and this is a very specific bit he decided to commit to. they're always like lol percy where do you even FIND these pictures are you subscribed to like scientific journals for the laughs? but no he just took them all on his shell phone

has an ongoing prank war with annabeth's little brothers bobby and matthew but like it's Unhinged. they're playing 5D chess and she has no idea whats going on

weird tshirts!!! he loves them! like

shit like this or those 'women want me fish fear me' shirts, anything with a funny or incomprehensible slogan is going in his closet right along with his band tees lmfao

bought estelle a panda pillow pet when she was born 🥺

can NOT bring himself to eat seafood no matter how many times poseidon has told him its fine. he's like NO these are my FRIENDS JONATHAN WAS TELLING ME ABOUT HIS GRANDDAUGHTERS WEDDING LITERALLY YESTERDAY WHY IS HE ON A PLATTER DAD. they had to give up and just start eating normal land food at the palace every time he comes to visit lmfao

gets into horsegirl antics with hazel she NEEDS to know everything the horses have to say. they spend hours gossiping in the stables.

movie nights in the poseidon cabin were 10000% a thing and when he was missing annabeth and thalia and grover (and a few others) would still sleep in there every now and then and talk about how much they miss him :(

percy and beckendorf had the worlds most elaborate handshake

he DOES impulse buy stuff just because they're ocean-themed. stuffed animals, home decor, school supplies, clothes, you name it he bought it if theres like a fish on it

has more scars from crashing off his skateboard than he does from monster attacks

grover is somehow the only person who's ever noticed percy is severely claustrophobic

has a deep passion for adele. I can't explain this one I just feel and know it to be true.

he and annabeth both proposed to each other at the same time and they were SO mad about it they kept yelling over each other's speeches lmao

he can SING but he doesn't know it. sally keeps trying to record him singing to himself but something always happens to the camera and she loses the evidence

called chiron a brony one time and mr d thought it was so funny he was nice to percy for an entire week

the camp keeps trying to convince him to teach sword fighting lessons to the younger kids but he can NOT bring himself to swing a sword at a 9 year old so he keeps getting injured

has the most complicated iced coffee order in the world his go-to local coffee shop finally just put the damn drink on the menu and named it after him

he IS the quiet kid in the back of your math class that always has his hood up to try and hide his headphones and eats increasingly elaborate meals out of his backpack when the teacher isn't looking. one time someone caught him with a rotisserie chicken in the middle of a geometry final.

he argued that he DID have enough to share with the class

currently obsessed with the image of him knocking back a container of sea salt as if it was a shot and his mortal friends being like hey! what the actual fuck! and he's just like uhhhhh anemia kills!

its his birthday<3

#percy jackson #pjo #hoo #toa #percabeth #molly mumbles

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer breaks your deal with Alastor

・❥ Your soul is owned by Alastor, and Lucifer is not pleased about it.

x: OVER 20k words!? strap in ya’ll, it’s a roller coaster.

xx: reader is g/n. no use of y/n. if you want to read it in chapter-form, you can read it over on my ao3 here.

warnings: adult themes, abuse, angst

‘Alright, deep breaths. You’ve got this. You’ve practiced this so much it’s a cakewalk, so just take it easy. You’ll rock it, like always.’

“Oi! Welcome to the show, ya dirty sinners! Didn’t think ya’d see me all the way up here, did’ja?!”

Screams and cheers echoed from the seats below, as the voice of the King of Greed boomed from the loudspeakers. 

"Well, listen up, ya pitiful souls! I've got a craving for some more cash, so I've decided to bring the whole shebang right here to the heart of sin, Pentagram City!"

The cheering erupted once more, the spotlights danced across the sandy pit underneath the large circus tent. On the perimeter were rows and rows of stands, packed with demons nestled against each other.

It was Mammon’s first circus show in the Pride Ring, a very rare sight to see him leave his cozy little ring in general. But, when a good portion of your fans are sinners who can’t leave without being incinerated, then you have to receive them on their home turf.

In the large pit, two lions jumped obediently through hoops, their handlers shouting commands and cracking their whips to further spur the cat’s maneuvers.

Bright green flame danced around the lion’s faces, resembling that of a large mane. Their eyes were soulless, black pits that glimmered in the bright lights as they continued maneuvers through the tight obstacles.

On the edges of the pit, support poles towered above the crowd. Thin wires snaked across them, anchored to large platforms that hung in the air from the pole’s side.

“As ya can see, we’ve got a big show tah’night! Lots of great fuckin’ acts for ya mongrels to eat up. But, before we get to the juicy bits, direct your eyes up to the ceiling to get a look at our first performance!” 

Hundreds of gazes lifted to sky, the spotlights below beaming upward towards a platform at one end of the tent.

Bright, white lights hit your vision, and you squinted your eyes to prevent them from burning to a crisp from the focused beams.

You stood, your bare feet planted firmly against the platform’s white surface. Before you, a tightrope connected your place to another platform in the distance, beckoning you.

A small hoop hung from the ceiling, encircling a small portion of the wire. The trick was that it was too small for you to stand up straight while walking through it, so you’d need to limbo underneath it.

"As you can see, we've got some sorry sap up there that is about to practically walk on thin air! See that hoop over there? They're fixin' to stroll right through it."

Small ooh’s and ahh’s emanated from the crowd, their eyes darting from you to the hoop.

"But hold your horses, folks! That ain't your run-of-the-mill hoop, no sir! That, my friends, is a hoop on fuckin’ fire!!”

Suddenly, the hoop ignited in a burst of green flames, illuminating the area before you. Gulping, you took another deep breath, steadying yourself.

Okay, well, you knew that was gonna happen. You’ve just never actually practiced with the hoop on fire, but it shouldn’t be too hard.. right?

You nodded to yourself, assuring your racing thoughts that everything was gonna be alright.

The skin-tight suit you were wearing sparkled in the spotlight, dazzling the spectators with a red gleam as you hovered right over the edge of the platform, waving to the crowd. 

You had been performing ever since you could remember, and this was just another part of the job. You weren’t a part of Mammon’s original crew though, only being given the opportunity when they arrived at Pentagram City.

You were a Sinner, which meant being confined to the Pride Ring just like the rest. Fortunately, one of Mammon’s acrobats was too sickly to perform, so when you saw the large poster detailing auditions, you jumped at the opportunity to make some extra bucks.

You had arrived at the settled convoy of vehicles and trailers at the outskirts of the city, you were ecstatic. You hadn’t performed in an actual circus in forever, and the make-shift village of performers and equipment was a fresh sight.

Mammon himself was a… colorful character. He was a hard party rocker with a big ego, and most likely had a swear jar at home overflowing with pennies, with how that guy talked.

You hadn’t really met him when you auditioned, but you could definitely hear him. He was loud, practically demanding everyone’s attention even when he wasn’t addressing them. 

You could hear him yelling about an absent performer, annoyance evident in his voice as he berated an assistant.

"What do ya mean he couldn't make it to practice 'cause he lost his voice? He's a bloody mime, mate! What the hell are we payin’ these blokes for!?"

When you had performed for the recruiters—which you were surprised to find wasn’t Mammon, since the guy seemed to stick his nose in everything—you displayed to them your . A few somersaults, a bit of ariel silk action, and the classic, juggling. 

“How good is your balance?” One of them had questioned, their pen tapping softly against the wooden desk, as they considered your skills.

“Good enough, I suppose.” You replied truthfully.

Long story short, you got the gig. Although, when you heard they wanted you to tightrope under a hoop, that was a little surprising. 

Good thing you weren’t afraid of heights, or this would have been a nightmare.

Backing away from the edge, your gaze rested on the hoop aflame in front of you. After Mammon would finish speaking, you’d begin your act.

"But that ain't the only thing heating up tonight, folks."

Wait, what did he mean by that?

“‘Cause the tightrope… is also on fire!!!” 

What?!

The crowd went berserk hearing that. They whooped and hollered, as their twisted little fantasies came true before their eyes.

“Oh, god damnit, Mammon!” You muttered.

When you told them you had a pretty good pain tolerance, that did not mean resistance to fire!

You sighed, it was a little too late to back out now. Plus, you needed the money. Bouncing on your toes, you attempted to hype yourself up.

Exhaling a large breath, your foot lifted from the stand, and slowly reached out towards the tightrope. 

‘Fuck, this is going to hurt.’ you groaned internally, your toe just inches from the wire. You could feel the heat of the fire as it hungrily licked at your feet. 

Right as you were about to place yourself onto the wire, you felt something tugging at the back of your collar. 

It was deathly cold, and you tried to pull away from its touch, but whatever was holding you had a strong grip. A thick green fog-like substance pooled at your feet, and you looked down in confusion as it began to circle around your figure.

You felt the force on your collar harshly pull you backwards, and your feet lifted from the ground. The smoke became so thick in front of you, it was only the bright lights from the spotlights below that gave you any visual. Suddenly, large eyes began to dot your vision, staring directly at you, into your hollow being.

“What the fu-”

Darkness suddenly covered your vision, and you felt like you were floating in mid-air. Though, you couldn’t tell where exactly in the air you were, other than the fact the surface below you had completely vanished.

You tried to peel your eyes open, but whatever had thrusted you into this chilling realm would not let you get a glimpse of your surroundings. It wasn’t until you felt your feet hit firm ground, and a much less intense light hit your eyelids. You opened them slowly, your mouth still partially open.

“-ckkkk?” You finished, your eyes darting from one side of the mysterious room to the other. It looked strange.. to say the least. It was old, a little run down. It screamed tacky. 

You observed the room again, trying to find anything familiar that could gauge your location.

Were you in a hotel lobby? But, why? How? You’ve never been here before, nor did you know anyone who stayed at such a dump.

“Ah, there you are, my friend! What a pleasure to see you!”

You pivoted sharply to face behind you, and your eyes widened in shock at the familiar face.

Standing before you, a large toothy-grin plastered across his face, was Alastor. The owner of your soul, your eternal boss, the Radio Demon, and the butt end of most of your unfunny jokes—which you would never dare say in front of him.

“You!”

Your finger lifted, pointing accusingly at the tall, red demon. He only tilted his head amusingly at you, that smile only growing wider as you frowned.

“Yes, it is I. I’m glad you remember my face, how are you today?” 

“What do you want?” You grumbled, ignoring his question. You crossed your arms before taking a step back. There were others behind him, but it was Alastor you were focused on as you waited for his response.

“Oh, just some charity work. My new friends over here are in need of some more helping hands, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services!” 

He motioned to the others behind him, and you glanced at the strangers. One of them was a woman with long, platinum-blonde hair, who smiled awkwardly at you with a wave. 

“That’s great!” You replied sarcastically, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “but couldn’t you wait until after my gig? I was about to make some good money!”

Alastor only sidled up to you, before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his cheek as if you two were best friends. You wanted to recoil from his touch, but you knew you’d get nothing good out of that action. 

“Oh, I am terribly sorry about that, my friend. But, we do have an agreement, as I'm sure you are well aware. Which means, for the time being, you’ll be living here at the hotel!”

Of course you were aware of the “agreement”, the guy had your soul! 

“What hotel?”

“The Hazbin Hotel! What do you think about the name, hm? I came up with it myself!” 

“It’s kind of lame.” 

“Oh-ho! You are such a charm, my dear! I can always count on you to liven up the room with your jokes.”

You sighed, uncrossing your arms and lowering them to your sides in defeat. You were stuck here, with Alastor, until he no longer needed your presence. As always.

“I still would have appreciated a call beforehand or something.” 

“Take my arrival back in the city as the call, my friend. My return was no doubt discussed by many. You knew I’d acquire your assistance at some point.”

Yes, that’s right. Alastor had been gone a good, what, seven years? It was strange, how he had just disappeared without a word or any kind of clue to his location. Where had he gone? Why was he being so secretive about it?

You didn’t miss him, of course. His absence was a mini vacation for you, a break from endless favors that he deemed you worthy to complete. What a joke.

“Now, why don’t we go and introduce you to all these fantastic fellows, hm?” He spoke, a command deep in his static-laced tone.

You turned back towards the small group of demons, who stood a few feet away silently as the two of you bickered. Standing slightly away from the rest, was a familiar furry face. Husker. He was here too? 

Nudging you forward with his cane, you walked up to the onlookers, who regarded you with a mixed expression. The shorter gray lady stood glaring at you with suspicion, her eyes darting between you and Alastor.

Beside her, was that pretty pale-faced demon in the red tuxedo. She smiled broadly at you, her eyes practically gleaming in excitement at seeing the multiple new faces.

“Hello! My name is Charlie, and this is my hotel! I'm so glad to have you aboard!” 

“..Hi, it’s good to meet you too.”

“Let me introduce you to our crew! Over there is my girlfriend, Vaggie!”

She motioned towards the shorter gray woman, and you looked at her more carefully. She had an X across her eye, barely visible with the long hair she situated across half her face. She still eyed you with suspicion, but her demeanor had softened as Charlie spoke to you.

“And, over there is Angel Dust, our first resident of the hotel!”

“How ya doing, Sugar?” Angel winked at you, as he leaned against the bar counter. Husk stood behind the counter, a thin line on his lips.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with Husker and Niffty, right?” 

You nodded, your gaze meeting Husk’s. His eyes softened just a teeny bit, before he let out a hmph and turned away towards the shelves of bottles against the wall.

Your attention turned back to Charlie, as she began filling you in with the details about the hotel and her plans.

She seemed like a sweet girl, passionate and imaginative. When she described her dreams to you, for the hotel, for the entirety of Hell, you listened carefully.

Sinners.. being redeemed? Going to Heaven? That seemed too good to be true. Unbelievable, almost. Sure, some of the demons down here weren’t too bad, but surely none of them were good enough to actually climb to the pearly gates. 

Charlie seemed… different from other dreamers, though, like she could actually get it to work. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what made you think so. Maybe it was because she was the princess of Hell, and was the second highest on the food chain of this damned place.

You were lucky with how down-to-earth she was, or your bluntness would have probably gotten you smited by now.

In comparison to Charlie, you were a nobody. Well, you were nobody in general. You didn’t own anything of value, not even your soul.

Charlie didn’t act like a princess though. Such as how she spoke to you, and her friends. No command in her tone, no true motives behind layers of smiles and sweetly spoken lies. 

If she was the owner of your soul, maybe life wouldn’t be so bad. She treated everyone fairly, without judgment of who they used to be. Only dreaming of who they could be.

Was the King of Hell the same? How much did Charlie mirror her father, anyway? 

“So.. what can you do?” Charlie broke you from your thoughts, she was turned to you, her gaze meeting yours intently as she waited for you to respond.

“Well, I'm a performer! Mostly aerobatics, but I can dance and other tricks. Oh! I’m also a crowd-pleaser, i’m a really smooth talker.”  

“That’s ssooooo cool! You do that kind of stuff, like, in the circus?”

“Mostly, yes. Any odd jobs I can find looking for my skill set, really. I’m not picky when it comes to money.”

Charlie contemplated your words for a moment, her eyes darting. She’s already got a bartender and a cleaning lady, but where to put you…

“I’m also fantastic at pick-pocketing.” You grinned pridefully at her. It was something you were very good at, and that you had continued to perfect during your time in Hell.

It was also what led you to make that wretched deal with Alastor. 

“Oh.. um, let’s stick with your other skills, hm?” Charlie smiled awkwardly, before she turned her head, and her eyes landed on an empty desk situated near the large entrance doors. 

She perked, her eyes widening in glee as she spun around towards you. 

“That’s it! You can be our new receptionist! You’ll answer calls and greet all our newcomers, and you’ll be in charge of making sure all our guests are well taken care of during their stay.”

Your smile faltered, your gaze resting on the desk behind Charlie before meeting her eyes once more. You chuckled like she had just told you a good joke. Except when your eyes met hers again, she only smiled at you in anticipation.

Wait, was she serious?

“I’m sorry,” you started, lifting your hands up and shaking your head, “but that is not something i’m good at nor-“

“Well I think it’s a splendid idea!” Alastor appeared besides you, his hand resting on your shoulder. His claws dug slightly into your suit, and you whipped your head up, eyeing him with animosity. 

His eyes were squinted, a glare behind that wide grin. ‘Stay in line, or else.’ was his silent command. You scrunched up your nose, ready to argue, but the intellectual part of your brain smacked you upside the head. 

Your shoulders drooped, that frown deepening before you turned to Alastor. You pulled your shoulder from his grip, and looked at Charlie. 

“Fine.”

And, that’s how it was for a time. 

There wasn’t much to do, in all honesty. As the months ticked by, you sat at that desk drowning in boredom. The people at the hotel were lively, but the job? Not so much.

While Alastor was the face, you were the paperwork. Although, he barely acted like it, which meant you took most of the work. 

There were barely any phone calls, any new visitors, anything new at all really. So, you instead filled your days with walking around the hotel, observing the rooms of any renovations that Alastor could make, or you’d write shopping lists for groceries and other miniscule items for the crew, and going out yourself to shop. 

There was that one demon, the snake inventor, that had become a resident during your time working. You had been there, when he attacked Alastor on the hotel’s doorstep. Your mouth agape as you watched him tear a piece of your boss’s suit, waiting for the snake to meet his death.

He didn’t, surprisingly. Instead, he had arrived not too long after apologizing. Which was shocking, and.. eye opening. 

Could Charlie’s dream come true? Alastor spoke of it as if it would turn into nothing but a failure. You had believed him, but now, that doubt was fading from your mind.

Could.. there be a chance for you too? 

You had mentally slapped yourself for that thought. You, redeemed? With no soul, you were trapped here. Only ever being able to watch from the sidelines as those more worthy ascended. 

Thoughts like that only came when you had drank a little too much. Finger mindlessly circling the rim of your wine glass, brow furrowed as you lamented over your poor decisions, you’d sit at the bar in silence late at night.

Nobody bothered you during those times, not even Alastor. No one saw the way your lip began to quiver, the way your vision blurred with tears.

No one noticed the surface of your drink disturbed with a droplet of salty sadness as it mixed with the bitter alcohol. 

‘You don’t deserve to feel sorry for yourself,’ you’d think bitterly, soaked anger spilling down your cheeks, ‘you damned yourself to eternal suffering the moment you shook that demon’s hand.’

Taking the glass, you’d lift it to your lips and empty the rest of the contents. That salty tang still hanging on your tongue when you set the glass back down.

On the worst nights, you’d simply rest your head against the countertop. The cool surface refreshing to your warm cheek, as you curled into yourself, and drifted into a restless sleep.

When you’d wake a few hours later, your blood-shot, tired eyes would open to the sight of a glass of ice-cold water and a migraine pill sitting a few feet away from your face. 

You never saw who catered to your hungover needs, but you had an inkling of a guess.

Lifting your head, you’d blink away the morning fog before sitting up straight with a groan. Slowly, you’d reach out and grab the small capsule and the water, before swallowing both in one large gulp.

Then, it was back to work as always.

Sometimes, you’d actually that phone on your desk would brnnnggg loudly, and you’d leap out of your chair to have a conversation with a fresh new voice. 

“You guys at least provide free Hash, right?” The masculine voice on the other end questioned.

“Sir, this a hotel meant for redemption. Y’know, to Heaven? We don’t have any paraphernalia here.” You grumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration as you listened to the guy.

“Wait.. so you’re saying Heaven doesn’t have joints?”

“I’ve never been up there, obviously. Though I'm sure drugs are a big no-no up there.” 

“Then what the fuck is the point of wanting to go up there?! No weed? No sex toys? Fuck Heaven! Fuck you and your stupid little hotel!” 

“Choke on dick and die!” You snarled, slamming the phone back into place. You leaned back in the chair, fuming silently. The calls never ended well. 

“Good job, you’re really pulling in all those potential residents.” A sarcastic voice piped up near you.

Your head snapped to the bar across the room, your gaze resting on the black and white feline who was busy cleaning glasses on the counter. 

Standing from your spot, you stroll over to the bar, before nestling into one of the bar stools. Placing a hand under your chin, you rested your elbow against the shiny countertop.

“Pour an old friend a drink, won’t you Husk?” You asked sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him. 

His soul was owned by Alastor too, and even if you didn’t know the guy too well, you felt a kinship with him. You both were hollow beings, now.

“We ain’t friends,” the demon grumbled, “I'm just stuck with you and Niffty until I kick the bucket.”

“Okay, Mr. Grumpy-Pants.” You laughed as he reached for your go-to bottle. Same old, adorably-cross Husker. 

He was getting better, though. Happier, even. The night he disappeared to go retrieve Angel Dust, he came back with a bounce in his step. Seemingly more at peace, with whatever happened between the two away from prying eyes.

Once, you swore you heard him humming some old, happy tune while he organized the liquor bottles on the shelf. Husk.. singing? That was something you thought you’d never see.

He had a very good poker face, and half the time you couldn’t tell if the kitty even liked you. He always regarded you like he was behind a closed, see-through door. Getting close to you just enough to see and speak to you, but never enough you could actually reach out and use him for support. Hopefully, he was getting better with that too.

Maybe, with how things were going, he’d let you scratch his chin one day. You always wanted to try it, see if he purred just like they did back on Earth.

“What do you think about the hotel?”  You asked him, as he popped the cap off the bottle with his claw, and began pouring a glass in front of your seat.

“It ain’t too bad,” Husk replied truthfully, “But, it could be better.”

“I agree, I was having a pretty good time out on my own before this. Guess we’ll just have to get used to it, I’m not sure how long Alastor plans to keep us here.”

“You don’t know?” 

You raised an eyebrow at the feline, as you took a sip of your drink. “No, I don’t. Why would you think I do?” 

“Well, I just assumed the two of you would discuss those kind things.”

“You think I talk to Alastor about his deceitful plans with this place?” 

“Why wouldn’t you? I mean, you two are practically the same, with your silver-tongue and all.”

You leaned back, a mixture of surprise and disgust on your face at his words. Husk thought you and Alastor were like, what, best buddies? The demon that owned your soul?

“That’s a fucking lie,” You growled, glaring at him, “I’m not like that douchebag at all. Just because I’m good at talking my way out of tough shit, doesn’t mean I use them to manipulate people into making magical deals that fuck up their entire existence.” 

Using your feet, you pushed your chair back forcefully. It scraped harshly against the wooden floor, as you stood up from the stool. You didn’t even glance at Husk as you sharply turned away, and stomped across the room.

“Thanks for the drink, Asshole.” You called as you turned the corner into a long hallway, towards your room.

You didn’t speak to Husker for a while after that, or go to the bar. Instead, you worked and kept to yourself in your room. It wasn’t until you walked into the lobby one early morning, did you see the feline.

He was standing with the rest of the crew, concern etched across their faces as they circled around a mumbling, erratic Charlie Morningstar. 

“Why isn’t the hotel working?!” You could hear her fume, as she fussed over a large tack board filled with drawings and pictures. 

It wasn’t until about a half an hour later, when Charlie had hung up the phone with her father, did you realize the day was going to get much stranger.

“Alright, guys! My dad is going to be here in one hour, so we have to make this place perfect!” She said, a nervous smile on her lips as she addressed the small crowd.

Everyone tensed, their eyes darting to each other at her words.

Charlie’s dad was coming? Lucifer Morningstar? The King of Hell?!

Suddenly, the room bursted into action. Sir. Pentious slithered to the kitchen, claiming he needed to bake sweets for Lucifer’s arrival. Charlie was practically hyperventilating as Vaggie rubbed her shoulder soothingly. 

“Aw man, I gotta go put on my new perfume!” Angel Dust yelled from the chaos, as he sped away towards his room. Husk continued wiping down the bar countertop, but a little more feverishly now. 

Alastor was the only one seemingly unchanged by the news of the king’s arrival. He only stood there grinning, as the others rushed around him, before beginning to push back his cuticles.

“I’m just going to go… put on some better clothes.” You called, unsure if anyone was even listening as they scrambled about. 

You quickly left the lobby, running to your room to clean yourself up and look presentable. Your mind raced as you did so, recalling all the rumors and gossip you’ve heard over the years.

Was he a cruel king? He couldn’t be, not with how Charlie turned out. But, with her reaction to asking for his help… that was strange. She had never spoken of him before, so it didn’t seem like they were that close.

What was he going to think of you? You’ve never stood before such an important figure, other than Charlie, but that was wayyy different than speaking to the most powerful man in the realm.

You’d just have to make him like you, to avoid any trouble. You needed to charm the King of Hell, just like you’ve done successfully with so many others.

You adjusted your appearance in the mirror, before nodding your head in self-approval. You crossed your room, pulling open the door, and making your way down the stairs. 

When you returned to the lobby, everyone was making last minute preparations. 

Sir. Pentious was busy tidying the cookies on the cooking sheet in front of him. Angel Dust was finishing hanging up the balloons around the room, while Charlie was hyping herself up in the corner.

A large banner with a handwritten message ‘It’s A Boy!’ hung from the ceiling, and you shook your head in embarrassment with a smile.

When you had made it back to the group, there was barely any time to talk before you heard a knock at the front door.

Everyone froze, and Charlie exhaled a large breath of nerves, before crossing the distance towards the door. She pulled it open, and a white hat poked from over her shoulder.

“Charlie!” 

You heard him before you saw him, and he sounded like a burst of sunshine as you watched Charlie get pulled into his bear hug.

She sputtered against his tight grip, before he finally released her. You could see the wide brim hat poking out of her figure, see that silly apple that stuck out from the top of his cane, as they talked for a few more moments.

It wasn’t until Charlie turned to face you and the rest of the crew, did you see Lucifer Morningstar’s face. Your breath hitched, eyes widening as you drank in his figure.

Fuck. He was gorgeous. 

He definitely presented himself like a king, with how he stood with his back straight and head held high. He rested slightly against his cane, his interest piqued at the new faces.

As his gaze swept across the lobby, it briefly landed on you, and your heart fluttered in your chest. God, his eyes were so pretty. They were a soft, muted yellow, like buttercream. 

They held many emotions too, you could see it. There was deep sadness that never left his gaze, as if it followed him like a shadow. It was something you felt followed you too. What was his story? 

Your eyes traced the rest of his appearance, landing next on the golden strands nestled under his hat.

That platinum-blonde hair practically glowed underneath the chandelier lighting, as it curled delicately around his face. It looked so smooth and silky, like the guy had a 10-step hair care routine. It probably smelled amazing too. 

And, those cute little rosy cheek spots on the sides of his mouth, that stood out from his pale skin. If you tilted your head just right, you’d say he looked just like a cockatiel.

But, it was his smile that enraptured you. Not the fake one, that wide, awkward mess across his lips he did as a way to appeal to Charlie.

No, it was instead that warm, genuine grin that lit up his entire face, crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. The smile that only appeared during tender moments, like when his daughter rubbed her cheek against his affectionately. 

You hoped he would start to smile like that more often. 

Charlie had approached your group, introducing Lucifer slowly through your companions. Your heartbeat quickened as they made their way closer to you. 

Taking a deep breath, you clasped your hands together, smiling warmingly at the duo approaching. Charlie stopped, turning to her father as she began to introduce you.

“And thisss is our receptionist! They’re in charge of handling most of our inbound and outbound affairs, and in helping us capture potential residents too!” 

“And I'm doing a fantastic job at that, by the way.” You declared to the two, that smile of yours widening as you edged closer to them. You lifted your arm, extending a hand towards the fallen angel.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.” 

God, could this dude get any more perfect? The closer he got, the warmer you felt your body temperature become, like he was practically the sun itself.

He regarded it for a moment, before hesitantly taking your grip. His hands were soft, but firm. The gold band on his pinkie grazed across your finger, it was cool to the touch, giving you much needed relief to the growing intensity of the heat of his grasp.

His eyes traveled up yours once more, to your eyes as they flickered between your batting lashes, and to your pretty smile that only grew wider as you leaned forward.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He spoke softly with a grin, as he looked you over. His voice was like silk, and you wanted to wrap it around yourself like a sheet. 

A stark difference to Alastor’s, who gave you a headache listening to that static overlay every time the guy opened his mouth.

“This is your first time here, right?”

“Yes, I'm just here to give my daughter the support she needs for her little project.” Lucifer nodded, glancing over to Charlie as he spoke.

“Well, I hope your opinion of the hotel has improved now that you’ve seen it in person.” 

“Oh, believe me, it has.” He assured, that nervous grin disappearing from his face, and you could see a playful smirk slowly blooming on his lips.

That was before his eyes landed on the bar at the other end of the room, his hand left yours as he turned to face it. You pulled your arm back, clenching your hand as his warmth faded from your skin.

“What in the unholy Hell is that?”

You stood up straight, as he walked closer to the bar. Only for Alastor to appear right behind him, a deadly grin on his lips as he strutted forward.

“Just some renovations we’ve had done, adds a little bit of color! Don’t you think?”

You sighed, your lips twisting into a slight frown as you watched the tension in the room escalate with every word Lucifer and Alastor exchanged. It wasn't until Charlie sidled up beside her father, that the drama got good.

“I guess that’s why they call it the Has-Been Hotel, eh?” Lucifer grinned, nudging Charlie with his elbow.

You snorted, your hand coming up to cusp your mouth at the sudden outburst. His dad joke was just so hilariously stupid—not to mention, it was pointed at Alastor, which was bonus points—you couldn’t contain the noise you made.

All eyes turned to you, and you felt sweat beading at your forehead from all the sudden attention.

Alastor still had that large toothy grin, but his eyes were squinted in a glare as his head snapped uneasily towards you. 

It was Lucifer’s gaze that captured your attention, though. He turned in surprise, as if shocked someone actually laughed at his joke. It wasn’t until he saw that the person that laughed was you, did he seem to slightly puff out his chest, a prideful grin dancing on his lips.

Heat flooded your cheeks as he sent you a mischievous wink, before his attention turned back to Alastor as the demon laughed2.

“Yes, Ha-Ha. It was actually my idea, though.” 

“Ha-Ha, well, it’s not very clever!” 

“A-Ha! Fuck you.”

You had stood to the side, as the two demons bickered and fought for Charlie’s attention. The insecurities of both became increasingly obvious to you as time went on.

Alastor, with his uneasiness that someone of much higher stature and power could take his role in the hotel. And, Lucifer, who’s relationship with his daughter was sour enough that the idea of someone replacing his role as a father caused him to short circuit.

Then, when a short, rotund woman bursted through the front doors, dressed like a flapper and fawning over Alastor, you realized even more how today was looking to be a really strange day.

Mimzy, an old friend of Alastor’s from when they were both swinging through the 20’s and 30’s back on Earth. 

You didn’t know her very well, other than she never stopped talking, and in your opinion, had an ego bigger than Alastor’s. But, you’ve been around long enough to know that whenever she came around, it was only to beg Alastor for help when she fucked up.

Your opinion of her only worsened when the wall a few feet away from you blew open less than ten minutes later. 

The chaos that ensued was even worse, as bullets began ripping through the walls of the hotel. Loan Sharks, snarling Mimzy’s name with venom, threw another explosive towards the building. 

When Alastor had suddenly arrived, shifting into his demonic form, you breathed a sigh of relief as he began to decimate the little army outside.

One of them was falling right above your head, and you tried to scramble away. 

Before it could turn you into a stain on the carpet, it suddenly jerked away, smashing into the closest wall instead. Gold sparks faded from around its wooden frame, and you turned your head to see Lucifer at the other end of the room with Charlie, his eyes trailing your form as you beelined for the opposite wall.

Another explosion rocked the lobby again, and you stumbled on your feet. A table skidded quickly across the floor, heading right for you.

The adrenaline pumping through your veins sent your body into overdrive, and you swiftly lean down, lowering your hands to meet the floor. With a powerful push, you launch yourself into a graceful somersault, your body arching elegantly over the crashing obstacle. Time seems to stretch as you execute the maneuver with precision, feeling the rush of wind against your skin as you spin through the air. Your back barely grazing the table’s surface before you landed into a roll. 

You shoot up from the ground, heart racing, a dumbstruck smile blooming across your lips at the realization you were still in one piece.

You were too preoccupied with Sir. Pentious barreling into your side; that you missed the pale face mirroring your  expression, as he watched you clear the table. 

By the time you untangled yourself from the snake demon, the dust had begun to settle in the room. Alastor had killed—or eaten—most of the Loan Sharks, and was now standing on the front lawn, cleaning bits of meat from underneath his nails.

Husk lifted his head slowly from behind the bar, eyes scanning the perimeter for danger. Mimzy crawled out from under the bar stools, before scurrying outside to speak with Alastor.

“Jesus, is everyone okay?” Angel Dust called, while Charlie was helping dust off stray pieces of rubble from Vaggie’s hair.

“HELPPPP!” Came the loud, mousy squeal from above your head. Eyes lifting to the ceiling, you see Niffty clutching a support beam with her life.

“Niffty? How the fuck did’ya get up there?!” Angel Dust yelled back, arms thrown in the air in exasperation.

It had partially dislodged from the ceiling, hanging loosely by one end. Niffty poked her head out from the side, her large eye darting across the room, as she waited for someone to come to her aid.

Your gaze traveled down from the support beam, your eyes landing on a water pipe, broken and sticking out from a large crack in the wall. It hung just perfectly in between you and Niffty, which would allow you to reach her quickly.

If you could just get a boost… aha! Your gaze lands on the partially torn couch that was scooted a few feet across the room from the explosions. If you leapt off its back, you could swing from the broken water pipe and use it to catapult yourself right next to Niffty. 

Lucifer analyzed the ceiling before turning to his daughter, smirking as he slowly lifted his cane.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got thi-“ 

“Hang on, Niff! I’m coming!” Your voice rang through the room, your footsteps echoing as you ran towards the damaged furniture. 

Taking a large leap, your feet hit the backrest of the couch. The muscles in your legs tense as you lower yourself slightly to vault forward and up, your arms shooting above your head as you close in on the pole.

Your fingers wrap around its chilling, metal surface; and with your palms snug against its frame, you swing forward, arching your body so your feet begin to lift above your head. 

You release the pole, your legs high in the air as you lift yourself up. You feel the wooden beam graze to the back of your knee pit, and you curl your legs around its base, hanging upside down.

Tensing all the muscles in your abdomen, you use the momentum to swing your legs around the beam and your butt hits the top of its base. You blink, your heart pounding in your chest as you exhale a sigh of relief.

Damn, that felt good. This was so much better than rotting at a desk all day, you really missed your old job. 

Niffty shot up next to you, wrapping her little arms around your forearm in glee.

“You came to rescue me, you’re my hero!” 

“Yeah, yeah. Just hang on, little lady.” 

You pulled her close, before getting to your feet. You lean over the edge, the only thing catching your eyes that you could use was that water pipe.

Okay, you’ve done a bit of parkour before. Piece of cake. 

You knelt slightly, before leaping from the beam. You stuck on foot out in front of you, and you felt your sole hit the top of the pipe. It was like taking a large step, as you swung your other leg forward and launched yourself with the other. 

Curling your legs, you practically cannonball into the couch. The large, plush cushions swallowed you for a moment, before spitting you back onto your feet in front of it.  

“Holy shit, ya didn’t die!” Angel Dust exhaled a sigh of relief, walking up to you. Niffty fussed in your hold, and you gently lowered her to the ground.

Niffty ran to Angel, who kneeled down to fuss over her for any injuries. You turned from the duo, before you caught sight of another figure coming forward.

“You’re an acrobat, aren’t you?” Lucifer said, a hint of astonishment in his tone as he strolled up to you, his eyes gleaming with interest.

“Yes, well, mostly. But I can do a lot of other things too.” You nodded, smiling bashfully at his facial expression.

“Wow! I mean, heh—boy, I haven’t seen anyone do that perfect of a maneuver in a long time. You looked like a ballerina up there with how strict your form was when you were swinging.”

Did Lucifer just.. compliment you? He knew about aerobics enough to make that kind of judgment on you? Man, this guy just kept getting better and better.

It should have been obvious, though. His silly red-and-white attire had struck you as familiar when you first saw him, and now you realized it was similar to the getup of a Ringmaster.

“Thank you, I've been practicing since I was young. I’ve even done a few circus acts before, and it’s always such a thrill. I'd do it over and over again without getting tired.”

“I think that’s called being an adrenaline junkie.” Lucifer teased, a playful smile on his lips. “But, really, that was good. Impressive, even.”

“Not as impressive as saving me from getting crushed by the ceiling.” 

Lucifer’s eyes widened just a tad, and he nervously adjusted his long collar, his smile turning bashful now.

“Oh, you.. you saw that?”

You nodded, “Yes, I did. Thank you. Also, your magic is just so pretty, they’re like little golden fireworks!”

Before Lucifer could speak, you leaned in closer to him. Your ear just barely grazing the brim of his hat as you smiled.

“And, I just wanted to let you know, I agree with you about the hotel name,” you inched closer to his face, your voice lowering as you spoke with a honeyed tone, “I have no doubt you would come up with a better name, Your Highness.” 

Lucifer tensed, and you thought you could see those red spots on his cheek darkening just a shade. 

He lowered his head slightly after that, his face mostly obscured by the brim of his hat. You couldn’t see what he was doing, but, was that an edge of a smile on his lips?

After a second, Lucifer cleared his throat, before lifting his head again.

“I’m glad we share the same appreciation for aesthetics. It’s been a pleasure speaking with you.” 

“Hey, Dad? Can I, um, speak to you? About the hotel?” Charlie spoke, approaching. A firm look on her face, as if it was rather important.

“Of course, I’ll be right there,” Lucifer nodded, before turning back to you, “Again, a pleasure to meet you. I hope we get to talk again.” 

Then, he did something you never expected, he curtsied. Your eyes widened, the King, showing you such a gesture of respect? All for what, doing a few tricks in the air?

Heat creeped onto your cheeks after that, and you watched him turn away, following after his daughter. Leaving you to stew about your encounter with Lucifer for the rest of the day.

Well, your thoughts on the King of Hell definitely stayed when you awoke the next morning, and the morning after that. 

Your thoughts were still there in that lobby as you sat at your desk one afternoon, your hands organizing a large stack of papers. They had a picture of the Hazbin Hotel on them, along with words that basically screamed ‘Come check us out!’

The plan was to distribute the posters around the city.  Buildings, poles, doorways, anything that could hold a staple was your target. 

You were fiddling around in your drawer, searching for extra staples when you heard it. A gentle rapping against the front doors, which made you lift your head.

There was no one else in the lobby, not even Husk. Slowly, you walked towards the doors, and the silhouette of a hat stuck out from the bottom of the stained glass.

Is that..?

Reaching to the handle, you pull it open, and met the familiar soft, yellow gaze. His lips curved into a smile at your appearance, and he lifted his hand in greeting.

“Oh! Hello, again!” 

Fuck, he was still gorgeous. Definitely an Angel, no doubt about that. His pearlescent skin practically glittered in the red hues of the afternoon light behind him, and you averted your gaze for a moment, trying not to be blinded by his ethereal beauty.

“Your highness? I’m—ahem, well, sorry. I’m just surprised to see you back so soon. What are you doing here?”

“I'm here to see Charlie, of course!” He exclaimed, strolling right past you into the lobby. His eyes scanned the room, resting for a moment disapprovingly on the bar, before landing on the large desk. 

“Is this where you work?” He motioned towards its wooden frame, you sidled up to him, before nodding.

“Yep. Hardly move from there during the day.”

“You sit there all day? Yeesh, that’s terrible.” 

“Mhm. Pretty boring, actually.”

“Well, if you ever want a better career, I’m sure I could find you a job at LuLu World, I’ve got a circus that runs year round there.”

LuLu World? The theme park he owned? You had never been there before, but it always sounded amazing. And, he thought you’d be a great fit there too. He couldn’t have been that impressed by a few of your maneuvers. Maybe, he just needed to go to an actual circus and see the real performers.

“I’d love to, but I'm kind of stuck here.”

“Why?” Lucifer turned to you, an eyebrow raised. 

“Well, um—” 

‘My soul is owned by the demon you have beef with, and I can’t exactly leave without his permission. I also can’t tell you this because I apparently signed an NDA too.’

“—I just want to help people! So, I made a promise that I wouldn’t leave until I made a difference. Y’know, really make an effort to improve this wonderful community!” You responded with fake cheer, clasping your hands together.

Lucifer regarded you for a moment, his fingers fidgeting against the apple on his cane as he thought.

“Oh.. well, that’s generous of you. But, someone with your skill set doesn’t deserve to rot away in a place like this, I’m sure you’d make a difference somewhere more relevant.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Your Highness?” You teased, your nails grazing against the desk as you walked past him, before pivoting to face him.

“What? No! Of course not, just—forget I said anything.”  He chuckled nervously, before fussing with his long collar. He seemed to do that often when

Aw, he got all flustered when he thought you were serious. Who knew the embodiment of Pride had such bad self esteem.

“Charlie went out to run some errands, but she should be on her way back, actually. Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?”

“Chamomile Tea, if you have it?”

You nodded, before walking towards the small counter behind your desk. There was a coffee machine, a toaster, and a large, electric kettle. You placed the kettle underneath the small sink, filling it up, before switching it on and setting it down. 

It would take a little time for the water to heat, so you returned to where your visitor awaited.

Lucifer leaned against your desk slightly, his fingers mindlessly tapping at his cane, his eyes staring at the wall. There he goes again, lost in his thoughts. Which he seemed to do quite often.

Would it be rude to wake him from his stupor? You had only just met him, so maybe, don’t push your luck.

You turned your attention back onto the stack of posters, flicking through each one as you counted. You heard Lucifer shuffle beside you, before clearing his throat. 

“What are you doing?”

“Posters for the hotel. I’m going to put them up around the city later today.” You held one out to him, and he took it from your grasp. His fingers grazed yours, and you could feel the warmth seeping into your skin from just that small touch.

When he pulled his hand away, that warmth left you, and you felt that never-ending chill seep back into your bones again. It was something that followed you since you made that deal with Alastor. As if your soul was the sun, and you just got shoved down a long, dark well. 

You could only claw at the edges for so long, letting the blood from your nails drip into the standing water at your feet, before you gave up trying. You’ve been sitting in that well for a long time, allowing time to pass by.

But, for some reason, since you arrived at the hotel, you’ve begun to start digging at the cracks of that well again. Maybe, if you got your claws in deep enough, you’d find that beam of sunlight.

“Hm, the drawings seems.. a little off. Did you do this?” Lucifer dragged you out of your thoughts, as he looked at you expectantly. 

Shaking your head, you chuckled softly. “No, unfortunately, stick figures are my only language in the arts. I think Charlie drew it.”

“Did I say this drawing was off? I lied! Ha-ha, yeah, this is great work.” Lucifer quickly replied, brushing off his earlier comment.

You were going to open your mouth to respond, before you heard the loud whistling of the kettle. You turned, watching the steam pour out of its lid, and quickly ran to fetch it.

You pulled a small tea cup from its stand on the edge of the counter, before filling it full with the water from the kettle.

Reaching towards a small cupboard, your fingers sorted through the different herbal flavors as you looked for one in particular. When your eyes finally caught the light green packaging, you pulled it out.

“Hey, this might seem like an odd question, but do you like caramel?” Lucifer asked from behind you. You turned your head slightly, taking a glance at him. His nails clicked against his cane, fast and nervous as he waited.

“Yes, I do. It’s not my favorite sweet treat, but I've definitely indulged in it a few times.”

Taking a few moments as you spoke, you ripped open the package. Holding the small string in between your thumb and your index finger, you carefully placed the tea bag into the steaming water. 

“Great! I was wondering, well, I mean—you see, I made some caramel apples for Charlie. Except, she hasn’t had one of mine since she was a girl, so I just wanted someone to take a test bite before I presented it to heel

Slowly, you could see the color begin to change as the herbal goodness was dispersed in the cup. You turned to him slowly, eyebrows raised as you regarded him.

“You want me to.. try one of your apples?”

“Yes! That would be great, just to know I still got the gourmet chef in me.” He smiled, lifting up a finger right above his lips, and swirling it in the air. As if twirling a long mustache.

“Your tea, Your Majesty.” You chuckled, bending your head slightly, placing it down on the desk in front of him. When you lifted your head, you were greeted with the sight of a large, light-brown coated apple. 

“It’s not poisoned I promise.” He teased, a lopsided grin on his face as he held the treat out to you, his fingers clasped around the kabob-like stick poking out of the bottom.

Carefully, you lifted your arm, plucking the caramel apple away from his grip. When you had it between your fingers, Lucifer reached down to take the tea cup from the desk, before swirling the mix around slightly. He blew at its surface, and the liquid rippled as steam still rose from it.

He gingerly lifted it to his lips, his pinky lifting away from the handle as he did so. His eyes softened as the herbal flavoring hit his tongue, and his body seemed to relax as warmth bloomed under his skin and the drink traveled down his throat.

‘He drinks with his pinky out? That’s so cute.’ You gushed silently, never did you think the King of Hell would practice such mannerisms. But, in all honesty, he didn’t seem like he should be in Hell at all. Guess that’s what happens, when the highest powers known to man punish you for being you.

His eyes never left you as he drank, as he waited for you to take a bite. You turned the treat in your grip, inspecting it a final time. Carefully, you lifted it to your face, and took a bite of its side.

Lucifer seemed to grimace as your mouth closed against the large chunk of apple. You chewed for a moment, letting your taste buds do the work. Then, your brain short-circuited at the sensations, and your eyes lit up.

“Woa-hu-ho! This is fantastic!” You beamed, and Lucifer’s eyes widened in a look of surprise.

“Really..?”

“Yes! It’s actually really good! I think Charlie is going to love it!” You nodded briskly, taking another bite of delicacy.

“Ha, well. Guess I still got it in me after all this time.” He boasted, chest puffing just slightly at your compliments.

You obliterated that apple in front of him, taking barely a moment to breathe as you scarfed it down. God, his cooking was actually really good. What else could he make?

Lucifer only watched you, a faint smile on his lips as he watched you devour the treat. As if he was fascinated by your sudden primal hunger. 

Your eyes met his and you stopped suddenly, covering your mouth as you continued to chew. Heat flooding your cheeks in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, this is pretty rude of me..”

“No! Not at all, if I had more I'd surely give it to you,” he laughed, setting his almost-empty drink back onto the desk, “and please, call me Lucifer. There’s no need to use such titles in a private setting like this.”

Right as he spoke, the front entrance doors burst open, and Charlie and Vaggie strolled in chattering loudly. They held a few shopping bags in their hands, as they entered the lobby.

Right, so much for privacy. Couldn’t you get five more minutes with the #1 bachelor in the realm?

“Oh, Dad!” Charlie exclaimed, surprise etched on her face at seeing Lucifer standing beside you.

“Charlie!” He beamed, strolling over to her. He encompassed her into another of his signature bear hugs, and she sputtered for breath in his hold.

“Wha—gasp—what are you doing here?”

“I just came by to visit, also to take another peek at some renovations that really need to be done. Among other things.”

“Oh, okay! Let me drop this stuff off by Angel Dust, and we can do that.” Charlie smiled at her father, before turning and crossing the room to another hallway.

Lucifer watched her leave, before turning to you, his eyebrows raised as he spoke, “I assume you’ll still be sitting here the next time I stop by?” 

He wanted to see you again? Your brain couldn’t process that thought when the words left his lips.

“As always.” You smiled warmly at him, as you cleaned up the now-empty cup from the desk. You didn’t say ‘Your Majesty’ this time, but you weren’t sure whether calling your king by his real name was appropriate. At least, not yet.

“Good.” He nodded approvingly, before his back faced you and he walked out of the lobby. Your gaze lingered on the corner he had turned out of view from, before you sighed and returned to work. 

You didn’t notice those sickly red eyes watching you intensely from the shaded corner of the room, as you took a seat back at your desk. 

Days like that continued, where you’d be greeted by the soft knocking against the entrance door. And, when you opened it, you’d meet the handsome, smiling face of Lucifer.

“Good morning, I hope you’re hungry!” He’d state as he strolled past you, always stopping right next to your desk first when he came.

You made sure to save your stomach for the delicacy he always carried with him now. Usually, he’d bring two, one for Charlie, and one for you. 

“I need to make sure she’ll like this one too.” He had explained. You were apparently his official taste tester now, but you never complained.

He’d hold the treat out to you, one eyebrow raised playfully, as he presented the caramel apple like a rose.

“Now with sprinkles!” He’d exclaim as you’d gingerly take it from his grip, your fingers brushing against his. The warmth a welcome feeling to your skin.

You’d sit there, feasting on the apple in your seat as he leaned against the desk. He was very chatty, even when he still held reservations around people in general. It never bothered you, of course. It stopped you from getting so bored while you worked.

“Don’t even get me started on Mammon,” Lucifer groaned, as you told him about your most recent circus acts, “the guy will do anything to put more money in his pocket. Y’know, he thinks we’re best buddies or something, thinks that lets him plagiarize my amusement park.”

“Why don’t you tell him to shut it down?”

“Because it brings in more business,” Lucifer had shrugged, “People go there, expecting a good show, and don’t find one. So, they go to my LuLu World, and bam, they never want to leave!”

You chuckled at the name, ‘LuLu’. Yep, you were definitely speaking to the Sin of Pride, alright.

“What’s so funny?” He had asked, curious at your reaction. You straightened yourself, a lop-sided smile on your lips when you realized he caught your laugh.

“Nothing it’s just.. ‘LuLu World’? There had to be something better you could have called it.”

Lucifer gasped, placing a hand on his heart, feigning hurt. “Woah, woah. First, you say I'm good with names, and now you’re laughing at them? Dirty.” 

“Oh, I'm so sorry. Please, good sir, don’t smite me!” You mocked a pain expression, clasping your hands together in a gesture of begging.

“I will allow you to live for now. Can’t have the hotel going into shambles because you’re not here to keep it running.” Lucifer’s voice deepened as he fixed his posture into a much more royal stance. As if he was speaking to a lowly squire in court.

‘I barely do anything around here, but thanks for the confidence boost.’ you’d answer silently, as you leaned back in your chair, watching his antics with amusement.

You began to anticipate his arrival with excitement. Even pouring his tea beforehand, so when he walked through those doors, you’d place a steaming cup into his palms. You always enjoyed the way his eyes softened when he took his first sip.

Hell, you enjoyed.. everything about him. His smile, his jokes, the care he had for his daughter, even if he had a hard time showing it. He made you smile, which was something you haven’t done willingly in a long time. 

And, his smile? That real, true look of happiness that blossomed on his face? That slowly began to return as well. 

For a few months, everything was dandy. Until, one evening, when Alastor summoned you to his room.

He never did that, and that made you nervous.

You stood at the closed door to his room, your heart pounding in your chest. What did he want? Did you do something wrong? Your thoughts just couldn’t still as you fidgeted nervously.

Slowly, you lifted your knuckles to the door. Before you could even graze the wooden surface, the door swung open. It creaked loudly as it did so, and your breath hitched as you began to glimpse inside.

You poked your head in, your eyes scanning across the room. The decorations were so outdated, it almost made you gag. Skeletons of an alligator hung on the wall, its eyes glowing from the string of lights wrapped around its figure.

A large shelf of books, mostly for cooking, stood out against a small wooden table. A small radio sat snug on the desk, playing a gentle jazz tune. On the opposite side of the room, was where that freaky abyss lay. You had never stepped foot there, the part of the room that simply seemed to dissolve into a dark, swampy land. 

Then, you heard humming. Staticy, soft humming, coming from the left side of the room.

Alastor stood over a bloody cutting board, a large kitchen knife in his hand. He wore an apron that was spattered with blood, his usual overcoat was gone, replaced by a dark red tuxedo underneath and a—surprisingly—clean white dress shirt.

He hummed along in sync with the music wafting from the speaker, as he continued to slice along the large slab of meat on the counter. You couldn’t dare think what the flesh used to be as you slipped through the crack, shutting the door softly behind you.

It didn’t seem like he knew you were standing there awkwardly by the door, but you knew he did. How long was he going to have you wait?

Clearing your throat, you spoke softly, “you wanted to see me, Alastor?”

“Ah, hello there, my friend!” He pivoted sharply, his tone chipper as he smiled at you. The knife was still in his grip, and he swirled it in the air playfully. “How are you doing on this fine, hellish evening?”

“Fine..”

“Wonderful! I called you here today because there is something I’ve wanted to discuss with you for some time. You see, I've taken notice that you and our ever-so charming King of Hell have been growing closer these past few months.”

This is what he wanted to talk about? You fought to not roll your eyes at that. 

“Let me guess, you want me to stop talking to him?”

Alastor giggled at that, a maniacal fit of he-he’s as he forcefully stabbed the knife into the slab of flesh. It stuck out like a grim warning, as he brushed his hands against his apron before removing it entirely. 

“On the contrary,” he spoke as he hung the apron against a dining chair, “I want you to get closer to him.”

You blinked, leaning your head back slightly as you processed his words.

“Wait, what?”

Alastor nodded, confirming that you didn’t just hallucinate that. He slowly walked forward, before placing a hand on your shoulder as he moved behind you.

“You see, I believe it’s in both our best interests to forge a deeper connection with our illustrious King. There are certain… opportunities that may arise from such a relationship.”

“Opportunities? What kind of opportunities are we talking about here?”

“Ah, now that would be telling, wouldn’t it? Let’s just say that there are benefits to being in the King’s inner circle. Power, influence, the chance to shape Hell itself… But I’ve said too much already. Just trust me on this one, my dear.”

Trust Alastor? Ha! That was the first joke he’s ever spoken to you that was actually funny. 

Your thoughts raced as he appeared on your other side, his claw grazing across the back of your neck as he rested his hand on your shoulder once more. 

He wanted you to what, fake your attraction to Lucifer? Wanted you to lie and manipulate him so he’d bend to your will, and carry out Alastor’s evil deeds in the guise of caring for you?

“What makes you think he’d even fall for that? He’s an angel, he’s not stupid.”

Alastor chuckled, patting your shoulder as his grin widened. “Haven’t you noticed the change in his demeanor? The little.. pep in his step? Ever since he met you that first day, he’s only grown more attached to you.”

Was that true? Sure, Lucifer seemed to be getting better, slowly. Seemed to smile more genuine as time went on. But, that couldn’t be because of you! He was reconnecting with his daughter, of course he’d be happier at the hotel.

It didn't matter, in the end. You weren’t going to do that to Lucifer. You weren’t going to ruin the one relationship that was built by trust. The question is, could you resist Alastor?

“What if I don’t want to?” You finally ground out, your firsts clenching at your sides.

Suddenly, you felt a chill around your neck, and you gasped at the sensation. You lifted one hand up, to try and feel whatever was clenching at your throat.

Your fingers wrapped around a green, metal collar that seemed to tighten as the seconds ticked by. Energy sizzled against your fingertips, like static. Eyes widening, you ripped your hand away, your feet moving on instinct to get away from him.

Your back hit the wall roughly, your heart practically beating out of your chest as you watched Alastor slowly stalk towards you. His eyes began to shift, resembling that of radio dials. Those small antlers on his head began to rapidly branch out, growing longer every step he took.

“What if you don’t want to? My, what a foolish question.”

He was just inches from your face, that toothy smile practically ear to ear as he leaned in. Lifting a hand, his claws grazed your collar bone, before traveling up towards the glowing green clasp.

A single claw hooked underneath the metal surface, pushing roughly against your throat as he tugged you harshly forward by it. 

His breath hit your face, and you scrunch your nose from the foul odor. He reeked of death.

“It seems you have forgotten who owns your soul, my dear.” He whispered in your ear. You squeezed your eyes shut, your lip quivering as he spoke.

“If you try to resist, try to fight against your chains. I’ll make sure my radio broadcast is filled with nothing but your dying screams.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, the collar only becoming colder as you writhed slightly against his touch.

“I-I’m sorr-“

“You sold your soul to me, don’t forget. If there is anyone to blame for your misfortune, it is you alone.” Alastor hissed, thrusting you even closer to him by your collar. You felt his smile crease brush against your skin, and you shivered.

You were becoming increasingly aware how sickly-yellow his teeth were, compared to Lucifer’s. Disgust began to boil in your belly as you opened your mouth.

“I’ll do it!” You whimpered, your heart pounding, “I’ll do it..”

“Wonderful.” He drawled, before leaning away from you. His claw released your collar, and it dissolved in green fog. You coughed, rubbing your neck, as Alastor took your shoulder and roughly nudged you to the door. 

It opened on its own, and you were pushed through the threshold. 

“I’m glad we could have this little chat,” Alastor’s chipper tone returned, as you stared at him with disgust, “Have a hellish rest of your day, my friend!”

The door slammed shut as he disappeared back into his room. Leaving a rush of angry tears to pool at your feet alone.

Two weeks had passed, since Alastor told you to tug the heartstrings of the King of Hell, to play him right into your fraud-loving palms. Oh, the universe must surely hate you.

You had begun to avoid Lucifer, though. Whenever he was around, catching you at work, you’d continue your silly little chats. You began to memorize the timeframe he’d show up to the hotel, and make some kind of excuse to not be there when he knocked. Either you were out shopping for supplies, or seeing the latest movie. Anything you could think of, you’d leave and force Husker to greet Lucifer.

The guilt of knowing what would happen if Lucifer fell in love with you? It ate you up inside. You hardly slept lately, tossing and turning with terrible nightmares of drowning in that cold, dark, bottomless well. The chains tied to your feet, preventing your escape to the surface.

Would anyone care if you just let yourself sink to the bottom? 

Those thoughts were still on your mind as you did your morning jumping jacks.

You had asked Charlie to use one of her empty storage rooms as a place to practice your acrobatics, which you had started doing every night now. It was any easy escape from your troubles, on the farthest side of the hotel from the lobby, where no one could bother you.

It was a large room, with ceiling-high windows that lit the room with a light red hue. You had convinced Alastor to give you a makeshift gym as a part of your “deal”. If you were going to be forced to be the bad guy, he could at least give you a place to kick ass.

There were multiple gymnastic bars set up at different heights, two balance beams, and a small-scale tightrope. The tightrope was a thick wire connected between two poles across one side of the room, roughly the size of your torso. There was a platform attached to each pole, allowing good foot room on each side of the wire.

Tonight, you were practicing walking on your hands across the balance beam. Sweat dripped from your forehead, and you watched it land onto the leathery cover of the beam beneath you. 

You had made it halfway across, when you heard the door to the room open softly. 

“I didn’t even know there were rooms back here!” An astonished, familiar voice came from the doorway. 

What was Lucifer doing here?!

Your brain short-circuited, and your arms began to wobble beneath you. You lost your balance, and  immediately tumbled off the balance beam with a breathless “Fuck!”

Your side hit the mats below, pain bloomed from your shoulder as you lay there in defeat. You heard a high pitched yelp from behind you, and the sounds of feet pattering against the floor neared.

“You’re not dead, are you?” Lucifer laughed nervously as he kneeled beside you. He reached a hand down to your face, before he hesitated, and instead lifted his cane.

You felt soft poking against your cheek, as he prodded you with the black stick. 

“Stop that.” You grumbled into the mat, stirring slightly from the floor.

“Oh, you’re not dead! What a relief.” He said, exhaling a breath he had been holding. “I’m terribly sorry about that! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You groaned, before lifting yourself up from the mat. You got to your feet, rubbing your shoulder tenderly.

“It’s fine, I’m fine. What are you doing here, though?” 

Lucifer processed your question for a moment, before he suddenly straightened himself up. Head held high, he strutted over to you, before halting. He glanced at you, before he began fussing with his bow-tie nonchalantly.

“Well, I came to find you.” 

“Why?” 

“Because, I wanted to speak with you. And, you’re conveniently always out of the room when I want to do that.”

Shit. Did he notice you were avoiding him? You didn’t think it was that obvious.

Lucifer watched you intensely, analyzing your reaction to his accusatory statement. He had a firm line on his lips, as if your actions didn’t bother him. 

“I’m not avoiding you.” 

“Oh, really?”

“I came here to improve my aerobatics, before you rudely interrupted me.”

“Right, like you need to improve.”

You turned to him, an eyebrow raised. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re already good at it, there’s no reason for you to come here every day.”

He turned his head to face you as he spoke, and your eyes caught sight of something wiggling slightly on the top of his head. Is that apple decoration not fully attached to his hat?

Suddenly, you had an idea. A playful smile began to bloom on your lips, as you slowly made your way towards him. 

“Actually, that’s not true. I’m not that good at tightrope walking, I’ve told you that before.”

Right before he turned his head so he could trace your movements, you shot your arm above his hat, your fingers pinching around the small apple stem.

You sharply pivoted, facing him now as you walked backwards towards the tightrope platform. The apple hung behind your back, as you kept his gaze. 

“Buuut, I think I’m much better at it than you.”

“Excuse me?”

You turned to face the platform, moving your arm fluidly and taking the stem between your teeth, before lifting yourself on the white surface. 

Gripping the apple once more, you turn to him slowly, watching his eyes widen as you swing the apple between your fingers for his viewing pleasure.

“Actually, I think I'm better at this whole circus bizz than you. Look! I’m a magician even, would you like to see another trick, Your Majesty?” 

Lucifer stood there in shock, for a few moments. His red pupils darted from the swiped apple to you, before they dilated slightly. Then, he laughed, an audible ‘Ha ha!’ at your words. 

“You think you’re better at the circus than me?” Lucifer asked slowly, a mixture of disbelief and teasing in his tone.

“Without a doubt!” You called, turning to face the wire. Not giving him a second glance, a smug smile formed on your lips.

Lucifer regarded you a moment, before a mischievous grin played on his face. “Well, let’s prove it then.” 

He lifted his cane, before tapping it against the ground twice. Suddenly, you found the platform vibrating underneath your feet. Then, it began to move. You stumbled, and then fell to your knees, gripping the edges as you squeezed your eyes shut.

What the hell was happening?!

The support pole began to rise up, and up, and up, until it barely grazed against the ceiling. Slowly, you opened one eyelid, and then the other. You were still safe, clutching to the platform. The tightrope was still holding, connected to the pole across the room. 

You exhaled a side of relief, before crawling over to the edge. Your eyebrows flew up in surprise as you judged the distance to the ground, you were roughly three stories in the air!

Did.. Lucifer do that? He took “prove it” to a whole new level with this one. 

You got back onto your feet, the apple still in your palm as you placed your other hand against the support beam. Now, where was Lucifer? Did he stick you up here to starve to death?

“Hey.”

You jumped, reeling back from the voice, right towards the edge of the platform.

“Woah—hang on there now!” Lucifer quickly reached out and wrapped his fingers around your wrists, tugging you back to the center of the stand. You blinked, slowing your heart beat, as you stared in surprise.

“Lucifer? How did you get up here?”

“I can fly, remember?” 

That’s right, he did have wings. You just didn’t think he was that fast with them. Lucifer had also completely ditched his hat and overcoat, instead he was in his red and white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to partially expose his forearms. 

His hair was slightly disheveled, no doubt from the flight up here. It wasn’t as slicked back as before, small strands of hair sticking out messily. You thought that was adorable.

Lucifer looked down, before smiling sheepishly and withdrawing his hand from your wrist. He brushed his fingers down your hand, his nails gently grazing against your palms.

This time, you didn’t feel the cool sensation from his gold ring against your skin, as his pinky lifted from your hand.

“Now, are you going to walk across that wire, or are you going to just give me back my apple?”

You met his eyes, his gaze playful as he smirked at you. He took a step closer, and you took a step back. Slowly, your heel hit the wire, and you halted. 

Lucifer watched you expectantly, waiting for you to make a move. He probably assumed you’d turn around to cross the wire, and he’d nab the apple from behind your back.

Too bad for the King of Hell, you could walk on a tightrope backwards. You winked at him, as your feet moved fully onto the wire. You pivoted slightly every so often, your body fluidly leaning back and forth as you adjusted for balance.

Lucifer watched you, admiration in his eyes as you maneuvered your way down the tightrope. You pulled the apple from behind you, teasing it in front of his view.

“The big question is, how do you think you’re going to best me in those heels, Your Majesty?” 

Lucifer glanced down at his knee-high boots, before slowly peeling them off his feet. He placed them neatly to the side, before moving a foot to the wire.

He began to put his weight onto the tightrope, wobbling a little as he adjusted for balance. He definitely did not do this often, and you laughed softly at his failing posture.

Lucifer huffed, glancing at you, who was still moving a reasonable distance away from him. Then, a smirk played on his lips, and you saw forms begin to appear against his back. 

The red feathers of his wing’s underbelly began to glimmer in the light from the large windows behind you, as he slowly opened them to full length.

Six ethereal, majestic wings flapped gracefully behind him. They began to pivot slightly, adjusting for Lucifer’s balance much quicker and with ease.

“That is so dirty!” You laughed at him, shaking your head disapprovingly.

“Looks like I'm going to getcha!” He teased, as he began to take much more confident steps across the wire; his wings flapping softly, boosting his speed.

You took bigger, riskier steps as you closed in on the other platform. Your heartbeat racing from the challenge, adrenaline beginning to pump in your veins.

“What happens if I eat this apple?” You asked, holding up the apple to your nose, before taking a deep sniff. Licking your lips playfully, you glanced back up to Lucifer.

“A tummy ache, I'm afraid. But, hey, I'll trade you a caramel apple for that one.”

Your stomach grumbled at that, and you genuinely licked your lips at his words.

“I might consider that proposition, if you can catch up to me that is.”

You spun on your heel, facing the base of the pole, as you began to increase your pace.

It wasn’t until you felt the wire jerk under your feet, did you begin to wobble. With a hitched breath, you try to regain your balance, but to no avail.

Your foot slips, and you feel your body beginning to lean off too far to the side. Gasping in surprise, you flail your arms hoping to catch anything in your grip to stop your fall.

Right as you begin to free fall, you feel strong arms snake around yours and grip you firmly. 

“Hang on, I got you!” Lucifer practically spoke in your ear as he pulled you forward, back up onto the wire. You breathe heavily, clutching his forearms tightly as you lean in closer, catching your breath.

Large wings flapping stronger now, Lucifer held you close as you both balanced along the same small portion of the tightrope. You felt his hot breath on your face, and realized how close the two of you actually were.

Your chest was practically against his cute little bow-tie, your legs brushing against each other as you balanced on the tiny surface. The steady wing beats of the fallen angel sent wind softly grazing past your ears, cooling the heat that was beginning to creep onto your cheeks.

He was so close, and so fucking gorgeous. Forget what Alastor wanted to do, what you wanted to do was kiss this man silly. For months, you both danced at the edge of each other's hearts. Gifts of affection, words of compassion, the whole shebang. 

Yet, you’ve never looked the King in the eye and told him ‘I want you.’

Was it because you were stubbornly fighting against Alastor’s demands, that you even ignored your own true feelings? Just to spite the powerful cannibal?

Couldn’t you just look at a sexy man in peace, without anyone else watching your every move?

“Are you alright?” Lucifer asked after a moment, pulling you from your ogling.

“You saved me..” You finally breathed, eyes wide and you met his soft gaze.

“Of course I did, why wouldn’t I—”

Lucifer’s words caught in his mouth as you pressed your lips to his. He froze at the touch initially, but it only took a moment for his entire body to soften against yours. 

His hands found his way to your waist, and he pulled you flush against his body. Your fingers reached up, and you began to caress the sides of his face, twirling a few pieces of hair between your pinkies as you deepened the kiss.

The warmth that bloomed from his touch was intoxicating, your entire being craving for more as you leaned even farther into his embrace. 

His hands moved from your waist, until they brushed underneath your shirt. His palms coming up to cup the small of your back as he pressed you closer to him, as if worried you might dissipate into the air and leave him forever.

It was a good thing he had six wings to keep the two of you afloat, or else you would have been a splatter on the mats by now.

You felt Lucifer's teeth graze against your lip, and you had to fight to not bite his lip back. After a few more moments, you pulled away from his face, your breath coming out ragged as you gave him some distance. 

Lucifer blinked a few times, his eyebrows beginning to raise slowly as a dopey smile danced onto his lips.

“I really enjoyed that, but we should probably get on solid ground, don't you think?” He laughed breathlessly, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked at you adoringly.

You reached up, brushing the few loose strands out of his eyes, before nodding. “That is a good idea.” 

“Well, just hang on.” Lucifer replied with a mischievous grin, and you opened your mouth to question him. Before you could get a word out, you felt him begin to lean backwards, pulling you along with him. 

You yelped and squeezed your eyes shut, as you began to free fall on top of him. Lucifer only hugged you closer, before his wings shot open, slowing your descent. 

Carefully, you peeled your eyelids open to the two of you gliding softly down, as Lucifer circled the pole lazily. Your feet swung in the air, and the wind rushed past your ears. The adrenaline rush causing you to laugh in glee as you felt your feet hit a hard surface.

You both stood there in silence for a few moments, the weight of what just transpired finally settling on top of you. 

Holy shit, you just kissed the King of Hell! From trying to stay as far away from him, to getting as close as physically possible. What a twist.

“Well, now that we’re down here,” Lucifer began slowly, his gaze meeting yours with a playful roll of his eyebrows, “we could continue our previous.. discussion.” 

You almost obliged, until you heard the familiar call of Charlie, as she searched for her father. You tensed in his grip, before pulling away from his hold. A pout formed on Lucifer’s lips at the absence of your touch, before he straightened himself. 

Snapping his fingers, that familiar white overcoat magically materialized onto his figure, along with his wide brim hat. Your eyes landed onto that spot where the missing apple usually was, and then you noticed how empty both your hands were.

“Your apple! I think I dropped it when I almost fell.” You explain apologetically.

“Oh, you mean this apple?”

Lucifer pulled the red, gleaming trophy from beneath his overcoat. He threw it in the air a few times, catching it gracefully. A silent boast as he grinned at you. Your mouth only hung agape, as you scanned the apple for any imperfections.

“There is no way you took that from me! How do I know you didn’t just make that?”

“Woah! Sounds like someone is a sore loser.” Lucifer laughed, before turning towards the door, he kept his gaze on yours as he did so, walking backwards as he talked.

Slowly, you kept pace with him, shaking your head in disbelief at his words. He was just as preoccupied as you, sucking on your face, you couldn’t believe he actually took it from you in the chaos.

“At least we settled the little debate, hm? Seems like i’m better at these kinds of things than you. Just like I said.”

“We’ll definitely come back and test that theory with your wings bound this time.”

“Oh, will we? Is that a challenge?”

Lucifer halted at the doorway, and you stopped a few footsteps away. You batted your eyelashes at him, grinning playfully, “it’s a promise, actually.” 

He grinned at that, before he leaned in closer, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

“So, you haven’t been avoiding me, then?” 

‘Not this again.’ You groaned internally.

“No, I haven’t. I’m sorry, I’ve just got a lot on my mind lately.” You quickly spoke, an apologetic look on your face. Would he buy your lie?

“And you’ll tell me when something is wrong, right?” 

You cracked him an assuring smile, “of course!” You lied through pearly-white teeth. 

Lucifer nodded approvingly at that, before he glanced out of the room. You both could hear Charlie a hallway or two away, and she seemed frantic to find her father. Lucifer only sighed, before turning to you.

“Looks like I’ll be seeing you real soon, Darling.” He promised, bowing his head slightly to you. You wanted to scold him for that, about lowering his head to someone of lower class, if he did that in public no doubt the citizens of Hell would mock him for it.

But, you weren’t in public. You were alone, with someone you cherished, able to whisper all your secrets, hopes, and dreams to someone you trusted most. If only you could tell him the truth, and not be stuck here drowning in your own lies.

Lucifer gave you one final glance, before he turned away, strolling through the hall away from your room. A happy whistle came from his lips, and you could hear it slowly fading as he moved away.

Backing up, you plopped down on a bench on the side of the room. The recent events hit you like a freight train, and you realized how terribly stupid you were.

How were you supposed to protect Lucifer from whatever plan Alastor had in store for him, if you were going to keep disregarding your brain for your weak little heart? 

Yes, Lucifer was the most powerful being in Hell, far more powerful than that red demon. But, he was also a sad, lonely angel. Who craved affection and attention, which he seemed to want solely from you and Charlie. 

If your life were in danger, would he be stupid and risk his own for you? He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. Your filthy, sinning soulless self wasn’t worth the trouble.

You just wish Lucifer would see that. 

For an hour, you paced the perimeter of the room. Your thoughts clear as you evaluated all the metaphorical cards in your hand. If Husk taught you anything about gambling, it was always to call your opponents bluff before he had a chance to do it to you.

Your feet halted suddenly, your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you stared through the large windows. Your thoughts settling as you watched the waning light.

You weren’t some pushover, some scared little child in need of protection. You weren’t going to let some murderous psychopath take any more control of your life. You were going to call the shots this time, even if that meant being dragged by the throat into that well.

As long as everyone you cared about, even Husker, made it out.

There was only one plan of action you saw ahead. And, it was not going to be the easy route.

“I’m done.” 

Alastor halted, the wall sconces in the hallway illuminating his sharp grin as he heard the words leave your lips. It had been four days since you decided you were going to stand against him.

“Pardon?” The words left his lips slowly, his head cracking in-humanely to one side, his ears twisting to face you. 

“I said I’m done deceiving for you. I’m not going to lie to Lucifer, or anyone else, for any longer.”

Alastor didn’t say anything, his back still turned to you. His claws tapped against his microphone, rhythmic and loud as he processed your words.

“Is that so?” 

“Yes, and I don’t care what you have to say about it. There’s more to the world than power, Alastor.”

You felt something cold tugging against your neck, that familiar, sickening sensation returning to your body. You sucked in a large breath, calming your rapid heartbeat. 

Green illuminated your face as you felt something heavy begin to weigh on your body. Alastor held one of his hands out, before flicking his wrist with a painful pop sound. 

The chain snapped forward from the collar around your throat, snaking around your figure as it wove to Alastor’s palm, its green glow casting eerie shadows against the walls. You struggled against its hold, feeling the cold, metallic links digging into your skin. Alastor's laughter echoed through the hallway, a chilling sound that sent shivers down your spine.

"You dare defy me?" Alastor's voice was low, dangerous. "You forget your place, little puppet."

Panic surged through you as you fought against the chain, but it only tightened its hold, squeezing the air from your lungs. You gasped for breath, your vision blurring as darkness threatened to consume you.

"Perhaps a reminder is in order," Alastor said, his tone dripping with malice. "A lesson in obedience."

“Don’t you have any more tricks in the book than this fucking chain?” You growled between gasps, the back of your head sliding against the floor as you twisted against its metal grasp. “C’mon Al, this is just embarrassing.”

Immediately, his face contorted into a look into a large, crooked smile. His eyes shifted to resemble radio dials, as he harshly yanked you towards him. Your cheek slid across the carpet, and you felt the sting of rug burn bloom across your face.

‘Don’t let him see you scared, don’t let him win.’ You begged yourself internally, as you held your tears back. 

Alastor’s face began to change, his features sharpening drastically, that crooked smile growing all the more larger. His antlers branched farther from his head, gnarling together in twisting designs above his ears. 

Even his hair began to stand on end, as he stalked closer to you. Shadows enveloped the hall, like a fog rolling in. Obscuring the sight of your eventual corpse, as Alastor wrapped the chain around his arm, keeping it taut as he closed in.

“The only embarrassment,” He started, his voice flickering into pure static at his rage, “will be how fast it takes for your s̴͔̓̌̍ç̵̯̮͍͆̿r̷̼̥̿̒̊̐e̸͙̣̯͛̽̒a̷͈̼͗ͅm̵̮͑͛͆s̴̻͊̽̑ to die on your t̸̝͓̆͌͝ö̷̻͚̩̎͊n̸̨̘̭͍̕g̵̱̝͍̈́͛̍ͅû̶̞̼̲͜é̴̺, when I rip your h̷̟̣͚̅̏̔̚͜ë̵̺͙́́a̶͉͙̤͆͋r̶̼̈́͝t̴͙̯̕ out of your throat.”

Archaic symbols danced your vision as Alastor’s entire body seemed to contort into jagged edges, his arms and legs doubling in length, as his hunched back hit the ceiling of the hallway. His crooked neck lowered, his head itching closer. One claw coming out to hook  underneath you collar, pulling you up by the neck. 

“What will our dear King do then, when he finds your mangled body on his front door?” 

You snarled, trying to tear away from his grip. How dare he still try and bring Lucifer into this, even when the fallen angel could pulverize him in an instant. Couldn’t he face you one to one? 

The Radio Demon’s eyes flickered a darker red, and you feel the collar begin to tighten around your throat, squeezing the breath from your airways. You gasped, tears pricking at your eyes as you clawed at your neck in a poor attempt to stop the sensation.

“Alastor? Is everything alright over there?” 

Suddenly, the squeezing at your throat dispersed like fog, as the collar and chain vanished into thin air. You were left on the floor, sputtering for breath, as Alastor quickly pivoted towards the voice. His body instantly shifted back to normal, with quiet pops and clicks as his joints squeezed back into place.

It was Vaggie, coming down the hall, her eye staring suspiciously at his shaded form. 

Clutching your bruising throat, you stumble onto your feet. Your back hits the wall, and you use it for support to catch your breath.

Alastor straightened his suit, his expression morphing into its usual grin as if nothing had happened. “Oh, everything’s just dandy, Vaggie. Just having a delightful little chat with our friend here.” He gestured casually toward you, his tone dripping with false cheerfulness. “Isn’t that right?” He raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with an unknown expression.

“Yeah—cough—sorry, just choked on the water I was drinking.”

“Right. Listen, Alastor, I wanted to talk to you in private. If that’s okay with you.” Vaggie said, gesturing down the hall.

“Of course, it’s always a pleasure speaking with you, my dear!” You didn’t miss the way Alastor’s eye twitched, as if he was not thrilled about having to leave. But, he was deceiving everyone else, too. Which meant he had to play his little part to a T.

“I’m just.. going to go. I’m not feeling so well.” You muttered to the pair, before darting around the corner, out of sight. 

You ran to your room, slamming your door behind you. Your back hit its frame, before slowly sliding down until your bottom hit the carpet. Tears of anger flowed down your cheeks, as you continued to rub your neck.

Fuck. Why were you so powerless?! If only you had even a sliver of magic in you, you could have defied him better. Now, what was Alastor going to do? 

‘What did you expect?’ A part of your mind hissed scoldingly, ‘You just tried to fight the demon that owns your soul, and got your ass handed to you.’

You growled, rising to your feet. Frustration, sadness, pain, everything seeped out of you, and you felt like killing someone in that moment.

“It’s better—”

You picked up a spare shoe from the ground, your nails digging into it as you bared your teeth. Swinging it behind you, you vaulted it towards the opposite wall.

“—than doing nothing at all!” 

You heard glass shattering, and watched shards spill from the mirror above your dresser. You could see your face, partially obscured in its remaining reflection. You could see the slight purple marks around your neck, see the tears spilling from your cheeks.. see that dark look on your features, like you actually would kill somebody.

Reeling back, you placed your knuckles to your lips. Maybe, to stop that lip from quivering so violently. That face in the mirror reminded you of everything you hated about this wretched place.

And, now, you were becoming just like him. You stepped backwards, trying to distance yourself from the reflection, before the back of your legs hit the side of your bed, and you sank into the mattress. You wrapped your arms around your knees, curling into a ball as you sobbed the frustration out of you.

You could still feel the dark magic sizzling against your neck, as if it refused to release you of its hold just yet.

It wasn’t until you heard soft rapping of knuckles against glass did you lift your head. Turning towards the balcony doors, your eyes widen at the sight of the familiar figure standing outside. His silhouette illuminated by the dark red hues of the evening light, as he waved through the frosted glass.

“I see you over there! Can you let me in for a moment?” 

What was Lucifer doing here?! This was terrible timing for him to make an appearance! But, he knows you're there, can see your silhouette through the glass as you sit there on the bed. You sighed, quickly cleaning your face of tears, and taking a few deep breaths.

“Come in.” You called hoarsely, cracking the best smile you could muster.

The glass doors slowly pushed out of them, and Lucifer quietly shimmied through the cracks. He pivoted to face you, a large smile on his lips as he squinted at you through the darkness of your room.

“I’m so glad you’re here, I was just about to leave and then I remembered I never gave you your caramel apple!” 

Lucifer began to stroll forward, your face becoming less obscured in the shadows as he closed in. You tried to shrink away slightly, turning your knees away from him so he couldn’t see them quivering slightly.

“I put a layer of chocolate on it too, and so—wait, why are you crying?” His gaze intensified, as your face finally illuminated in the light.

“I-it’s nothing! I just had something in my eye!” You lied, cracking a wider smile.

“What are those marks on your neck?” Lucifer ignored your excuse, as he stalked closer to you. His eyes constantly scanning your figure looking for any more oddities. 

“Please, Lucifer.. I’m just tired and-”

“What is this?”

Lucifer had asked, his pupils dilated, trained on something against your throat. Something more than the small purple marks.

You began to rub your thumbs together in a soothing motion as you watched him move closer to you. Gulping, you parted your lips to speak.

You didn’t get a chance to say anything, before his hand gingerly lifted towards you. His nail grazed against your collarbone, and heat blossomed underneath your skin from his touch. 

‘Please, just stop here,’ you silently begged, eyes squeezing shut as his finger rested against your figure, ‘don’t ruin this moment by digging any farther.’

Your reaction only spurred him, however. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, his pupils thin slits now as he watched you.

Slowly, his finger trailed upward, skin brushing softly against yours as he traced the invisible force only a powerful demon could see. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, every movement of his only quickening its pace. 

Until his hand stopped, right in the middle of your neck, and you felt a sizzling against your skin. The heat was becoming too much, and you wanted to pull away from his touch. You didn’t, instead, you tensed, deathly still before him.

A soft golden light illuminated from Lucifer’s palm, as his fingers wrapped around an invisible object. A shadow formed in his grip, and he tugged at it, that glow in his palm growing stronger.

Backing away, he yanked a long, thin chain from your figure, as if trying to free you of a parasite that found a home deep in your bones. As he stepped backwards, it only dragged across the floor, still connected to your neck as it lengthened.

A thick, metal collar snuggly encompassed your throat. The chain locked tightly against it, a vivid reminder of your poor decisions.

Lucifer’s palm slid across the cold, metal links. Eldritch magic seeped from its form in the shroud of thick fog. Archaic symbols danced at the edge of your vision as its glow illuminated Lucifer’s unreadable expression.

The chain was a sickly green, its harsh glow an annoyance to his eyes. It was embedded with a dark, chilling magic. Whispers of untold horrors and ancient curses coiling around you, promises of a fate worse than death. 

Lucifer could practically smell it, that red demon's aura as it encircled around your frame. A twisted signature, practically scrawled across your forehead like a stamp of ownership.

Oh, the audacity of a person to take such a kind soul and rip it away from its owner. 

You weren’t some dog to be beckoned at the flick of a wrist. You were so much more than that, you deserved so much more than that. 

Yet here you were, the clasp around your neck like a shadowed hand, softly squeezing the life out of your eyes. He could see it, clear as day.

Small, white horns protruded from his head as he clenched the chain tighter. He tugged it once, twice, as if testing its durability. You leaned back slightly, the chain becoming taught between the two of you.

That collar around your throat kept you locked in place, as you watched him turn the chain in his hands. For a moment, Lucifer’s figure melded into the horrid shadow of your owner, and your eyes widened in fear at your delusion.

You could see it, feel it. Your stomach brushing the stained carpet beneath you with that haunting figure bent in a sickly, twisted angle in front you. That chain wrapped around the radio demon’s hand as he threatened you with terrible acts if you failed to stay in line.

Seeing your face contort into pained anguish only caused him to bare his teeth slightly, the sharp edges glinting in the light.

Seeing it so deeply entwined with your very being only further spurred the king’s anger. It seeped quietly from him, his grip tight against the chains as if trying to snap them with his bare hands.

“Who did this?” He hissed, his gaze boring into yours. He wanted to hear you say that demon’s name, wanted to hear you confirm the truth that was so obvious in front of him. 

You knew he wasn’t angry at you, but still you bowed your head slightly. Averting your gaze from his pleading eyes, shame slowly clawing at your stomach. For a moment, you felt like throwing up. Wanting to rid yourself of the terrible feeling that was seeping into your skin.

You felt like crying, or throwing yourself into his arms. Wanting to melt into his hold, and be told again and again that everything would be alright. That the most powerful man in hell would come to your rescue.

But, deals that bartered in souls are a much more difficult magic to conquer.

Fighting the urge to collapse into his embrace, you steeled yourself. Hands planted against your knees, back straight in a pathetic attempt to have some kind of power in this moment. 

Your eyes sullenly traced across the harsh links of the chain, its form all too familiar by now. Yet, it still caused such grief in your bones no matter how many times you looked upon it over the years.

Slowly, your eyes shifted to meet his gaze. Your lips curved into a frown at his expression, and your predicament.

How were you supposed to tell the love of your life your soul didn’t belong to you? That you were trapped in a deal of your own making? 

Curse that little fine line in your deal that kept your mouth sealed shut, that prevented you from uttering his name.

“I-I..” You desperately tried to speak, to tell him the truth, but that invisible hand that pulled at your tongue forced your silence. Tears pricked at your eyes, the desperation in them evident as your attempts to explain only died behind those pretty lips of yours.

As your mouth shut in frustration, Lucifer’s anger only heightened. His eyes flared into a blood-red glow, a harsh change from that soft yellow radiance you often found yourself lost in.

He pivoted harshly away, his voice contorting into a snarl as he stalked out of the room. His overcoat appeared atop his shoulders, and it swished behind him as he moved. 

Lucifer’s thoughts were too tangled with the images of his claws wrapping around the deal-makers throat to sit there and console you.

The tears that had threatened to spill finally rolled down your cheeks, your lip quivering as your eyes lingered on the doorway he had just exited. His thoughts too mangled with the image of his claws wrapping around the deal-makers throat to sit there and console you.

Placing your face into your hands, you sobbed quietly. 

Oh, how that regret had begun to consume you as you continued to wallow in your self-pity. 

Regret, for thinking that giving away your soul was a simple feat. That somehow, you’d still be happy after the fact. 

Regret, for falling in love when you knew the deal that kept you to that deer demon’s side would never allow you to enjoy such a fleeting emotion. No matter how hard you clawed to Lucifer’s soft embrace, that chain would always be there to drag you back. 

Those soft whispers of affections, of promises you couldn’t keep. Knowing, one day, that constant-smiling demon could play his little games and tear you away from your lover’s hold forever.

Oh, what a lovestruck idiot you are. 

Lucifer’s feet carried him back to the lobby, his eyes glowing as he noticed the cat-demon, Husk, cleaning glasses behind the bar. He sharply turned in his direction, surely, this other being 

“You, bartender.” Lucifer hissed, as he lifted himself up onto the barstool, crossing one leg over the other. Acting as if only wanting to have a friendly chat with the demon. His claws extended slightly, as they tapped impatiently against the countertop. 

Husker looked up from the glass in his hands, his eyes bored and his mouth a thin line as he worked. It wasn’t until he saw Lucifer’s deadly expression did he drop the glass immediately, ears slightly pinned to his head, before straightening his back to address the king.

“I-uh, how can I help you, Your Majesty?” 

Lucifer’s lips upturned into a lopsided grin, those sharp teeth on full display. That’s right, some people have to remember exactly who they are dealing with.

“Where is your master?”

Husk paused, regarding Lucifer for a moment with an eyebrow raised. He was very aware of the tension between the two powerful demons, but he didn’t expect the King of Hell would go looking for Alastor.

“I’m not sure, sir. You could bring it up with Charlie when she gets back, I’m sure she knows more than little ol’ me.” 

Lucifer grimaced slightly at that. Of all the people in the hotel, his daughter was the last one he’d want to bring into this whole debacle.

“There’s got to be something you must know, bartender. He owns your soul too, does he not?”

“What, you think I keep track of the guy or something?” 

“No, but you should,” Lucifer snarled, leaning over the counter, causing Husk to reel back slightly, “it’s clear no one here keeps eyes on that filth, enough to stop him from hurting people in this very hotel.”

Husk seemed to deflate at that. Those long, feathery eyebrows of his lowering slightly as an unreadable expression crossed his face. He set the glass down, before sharply turning away from Lucifer.

“He’s usually in his room, by now,” Husk spoke quietly after a moment, “down the left hall, last door on the right. Ya can’t miss it.”

Lucifer didn’t give thanks, instead he tapped his cane at his side, and golden waves circled around him. In an instant, the King was gone, a few pieces of gold dust landing softly against the barstool. 

“Asshole.” Husk muttered, before popping open a bottle of liquor and lifting it to his lips.

Lucifer opened his eyes to see a large door in front of his face, green symbols glittered against its frame, etched into the wood with practiced precision.

Only Lucifer could see them, though. Only powerful wielders of such a force could see these runes. Magical spells, cast upon the room. Protection, defense, muffling, everything an evil guy could dream of.

Although, the demon’s magic was strange. Unfamiler, even. Seems like he’s been dabbling in a new form of sorcery.

Lucifer stood there, for a few moments. He didn’t knock at the door, or jiggle the handle. The Radio Demon was not the one in control here, so he simply waited impatiently for an answer.

“I know you’re in there, you rat.” Lucifer hissed, the horns poking from his head continuing to rise. “I know you can hear me. Why don’t you do us both a favor and show yourself, or are you too much of a coward now?” 

Slowly, the door to Alastor’s room creaked open. The interior obscured by thick shadows, with soft lights flickering from the edges of the room as Lucifer continued to stand there.

“Your Majesty!” A cheerful voice called from the shadows of the room, and Lucifer bared his teeth at the tone. “What an honor to have someone like you gracing my presence. Please, come in!”

Lifting his head high again, Lucifer took a confident step into the room. He had every right to be, even in the demon’s own abode, the King’s powers were unmatched. 

Lucifer’s lips curled into a sneer at the saccharine greeting. “Save the pleasantries, rat. We both know why I’m here.”

As Lucifer stepped further into the room, the door behind him remained wide open, the light from the hallway illuminating the King’s figure. Alastor’s silhouette still danced within the shadows, the glow of his red eyes illuminating the space as he carefully followed the King’s movements.

“Ah, but do we really, Your Majesty? Enlighten me.”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. “You have an uncanny knack to create suffering with everything you touch. Now, you pull the strings of innocent lives. Do you thirst for power that fucking badly, to make a deal for someone’s soul?”

“They made a deal on their own whim,” Alastor retorted, waving his hands in a sweeping motion, brushing off the accusation, “How could I say no to such an offer? I’m a demon, if you can recall.”

The lights in the room began to flicker with renewed life, and Alastor’s sharp grin only made the fallen angel want to tear it from his face.

“Demons like you deserve to be ground into dust.” Lucifer snarled, closing the distance between the two. He lifted his head, meeting Alastor’s piercing gaze. His claws wrapped around the Radio Demon’s black bow tie, and he harshly tugged him down to his eye level.

Alastor stared at the grip with a deathly silence, his face contorting into sharper features, his pupils taking the dialed form once more. 

Energy crackled in the room, a mix of both demon’s powers as the tension only continued to escalate. Alastor didn’t move from the hold, he knew better than to test that fate. 

The lines above Lucifer’s lips scrunching as he stared at the demon with disgust. “You steal the souls of those weaker than you to fill that emptiness in your own, it’s pathetic.”

“Maybe.” Alastor shrugged nonchalantly, before a green spark sizzled against his bow-tie, and it limply fell from his clothing in Lucifer grip. He turned away, stalking towards the cutting board on the counter.

“Don’t walk away from me, you freak. Lest I do everyone in this hotel a favor and remove you from existence right here.”

A dark chuckle bounced against the walls, filling the room as Alastor kept his back to Lucifer. “Ah, but if you kill me, they die too. Souls entwined with each other, you see. Such a dilemma, wouldn’t you say?”

Lucifer gritted his teeth, cursing his oversight. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

Alastor’s voice took on a sly tone. “But fear not, Your Majesty. I’m not without mercy. I understand the affection you hold for such a.. charming demon.”

Lucifer’s gaze hardened, suspicion clouding his features. “What do you want?”

“Why don’t we.. make a d̴̻͉̺̆è̴̛͎̟̖̻͐a̵̭̫͆͆̽l̸͓͍̽̆̀̕?” Alastor’s tone crackled with static, as he spun to face the fallen angel. His head tilting curiously to one side, watching Lucifer’s expression.

Lucifer laughed, an audible ha-ha as the words left Alastor’s lips. He twisted his cane between his fingers, his claws leaving small etched lines trailing behind his movements.

“A deal with you? Do you actually expect me to give you my soul?”

Alastor’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, not your soul, silly! It’s nothing too extravagant. Just a little exchange of power. After all, what’s a deal between demons?”

“And, what exactly does this deal entail?”

Alastor paused for a moment, his intense gaze never leaving. “I have.. a few affairs I never got to settle when I died. I’d like to be able to return to that filthy place, whenever and wherever I want.”

“That’s it?” Lucifer asked in disbelief, his head leaning back slightly as he processed the demon’s words. “You want access to the human realm? You’re standing before the King of Hell! Why not simply ask for my title?”

Damnit, Lucifer, is it really the time to get your pride twisted?

“Oh, I couldn’t be bothered to bare such responsibilities of a king. I’d take your strength in a heartbeat though, but we both know you aren’t powerful enough to bless me with such a gift.”

The mockery in Alastor’s tone of the fallen angels' lack of heavenly abilities, spurred Lucifer. Who’s horns were fully out for view now, that small fire licking hungrily between them.

“Well? What is it going to be, Your Majesty?” Alastor hummed, his nails clicking against the countertop. “Do you want their soul or not?”

A demon like Alastor, being granted the ability to leap from the realms? It was much different than giving Amsodueus’ little spawns access via that orange crystal, who didn’t hold the kind of magic the demon before him did. 

What would he do when he was up there? Steal more souls? Go on a slaughter spree? There was no telling with the twisted man before him.

But… it was Heaven’s problem. Wasn’t it? It was them who cast Lucifer away from the place he helped create, and now it was their job to clean up the messes.

“Why would you give me something of such value for something like that?” Lucifer asked after a  moment.

“Because your little lover is a deep pain in my side, always disrespecting and challenging my words. If it wasn’t for that silver tongue of theirs, I’d have killed them ages ago.”

Lucifer growled, golden flames dancing on his fingertips at Alastor’s words. 

“They also don’t have any value. No power, no status, just a beggar on the street when I found them all those years ago. You could say I only made such a deal because I pitied their pathetic existence.”

‘If this guy keeps talking, I might just have to kill him.’

Time stood still in that room for a moment, the ending of the song playing from the radio the only indicator that the realm was still moving around them.

“I’m waiting~” Alastor sung, both demons locking eyes with each other across the room instensly.

As Lucifer weighed the consequences, a firm line set on his lips as he nodded. "Very well, Alastor," he said, extending a hand towards the demon. "We have a deal."

Their hands met in a firm shake, and as their fingers intertwined, a surge of dark energy crackled between them. Wisps of shadow and flame danced around their clasped hands, swirling around the duo.

Alastor was lost in a maniacal fit of laughter, as large eyes and symbols danced around him. That smile on his lips changed, as lines of thread locking his teeth together, as if someone had forcefully stitched that grin in place.

The air itself seemed to tremble with the force of their agreement, and the room pulsed with an otherworldly energy. The very fabric of reality seemed to warp and bend around them as the terms of their pact solidified.

Suddenly, you burst into the room, your eyes widening in fear as you saw the two demon’s hands entwined. You placed a hand to your mouth in shock, as you realized exactly what they were doing.

“Oh, no no no NO!” You cried hoarsely against the loud rushing wind, pushing you against the wall. What kind of deal was Lucifer making?! 

With a final burst of darkness, the pact was sealed, and both demons drew back. Alastor’s eyes gleamed with newfound power. His aura crackled with renewed strength, and the demon’s grin widened with satisfaction.

His eyes landed on you, a twisted smirk on his lips as he vanished in a plume of smoke. The intensity of it causing your eyes to water, and to fall into a fit of coughs.

The echoes of their agreement lingered in the air in a mixture of green and gold sparks of energy. Lucifer stood alone in the room, before he took a step backwards, stumbling slightly as you reached him. 

Taking his arm, you yank him out of the room, into the hallway. You scan over his figure, your heartbeat quickening as you search for any kind of injuries.

“What did you do? You didn’t make a deal for your soul, did you?!” You cried in panic, your hands on both sides of Lucifer’s face as he blinked away the fog from behind his eyes.

“Of course, I didn’t.” Lucifer muttered between your palms, “I simply gave him some power that he can go fuck off with for the rest of eternity.”

“But.. he c-could—oh, why would you do that?! That was so stupi—”

Lucifer quickly wrapped his fingers around your forearms, shaking you gently to get you to look at him. The slits of his pupils trained intently on your look of distraught.

“For you!” He growled, and you slammed your mouth shut. His breath was ragged, his lips downturned into a painful frown as he watched your lip begin to quiver.

“I made a deal to exchange your soul for a little power, because I cannot bare seeing you suffer any longer. Do you get that? I walked into your bedroom, to find you bruised and in tears. Over what, spilled milk?!”

“I can take it, I've been taking it.” You cried, arms shaking as you fidgeted in his hold. Shame clawing at your throat. Why did you have to be so fucking useless when it came to things like this?

“No! Stop that. Stop lying to me! That ‘everything is fine and dandy’, when it’s not. I’m the goddamn King of Hell, and I can’t even protect you because you refuse to let anyone prove that you matter.”

Lucifer squeezed his eyes shut, head leaning into your shoulder as he took a deep breath. Your scent easing his anger slowly as he sunk into your embrace.

“You matter so much to me, you and Charlie. If I have to make a deal with a douchebag like him, to save your soul, then so be it. I don’t care what he takes from me.” 

Tears spilled from your cheeks, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You both fell to your knees, and it was your turn to lean into his embrace. Your shoulders shook as you sobbed into his chest.

You were finally free from that monster. He couldn’t hurt you anymore, couldn’t lay a finger on you without consequence. Yet, your tears were also of sadness. You had tried so hard to prevent this, to prevent Lucifer from being selfless and allowing Alastor to win. 

You felt hands gently rubbing at your back, a soothing motion that quelled your quivering figure slightly. It was so warm, like laying in front of a lively fireplace. You wanted to stay there forever.

You were so tired. The mental exhaustion that had been plaguing your mind all these months finally slamming into you, and you lay there limp against his embrace.

“Please.. please don’t cry. I love you, I love you.” Lucifer whispered softly, his voice cracking as he pulled you deeper into his hold. He kept repeating those words, ‘I love you’, as he placed soft kisses against your forehead.

You felt the soft touch of feathers graze against your ears, and cracked open an eye to see Lucifer’s wings engulfing the both of you. They nestled into you, rubbing against your cheek softly, lulling you into a sleepy daze.

“I’ve got you, I promise.” Lucifer whispered into your ear. “You’re safe, you’re loved, I'm so sorry.” 

You placed a soft kiss to his collarbone, and snuggled deeper into his chest. Thankfully, no one was around to bother the two of you as you sat on the floor in the hall.

Just five minutes. That’s all you needed, five minutes basking in his warmth, in his soft words of affection. Five minutes to promise yourself you’d never let him do something like this again.

And maybe, everything would be alright. 

you guys 😭 i made sure this fic was cooked, damnit!! A little more fast-paced than usual, but I hope you can forgive me for that. i also could not settle on what kind of deal alastor wanted to make, so i blind drew out of a hat. i just wanted to bring in a little drama, and it’s hard when one of them is can be easily bodied haha

i honestly have to stop telling yall how long I think my fics will be bc i said “oh i want this to be as long as artist!reader pt. 4”, yet it’s roughly 6-7k over it someone kill me

let me know what you think 🫶

[Lucifer] taglist: @ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @loslox @sukxma @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @laurenlaurie @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @mint129106 @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @lowkeyhottho @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @blue122 @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home

#lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #hellaverse #lucifer #alt title: you’re the rizzler this time